To the Ends of the World
by OptimisticGirl
Summary: [Days of Future's Past sequel] All is eerily calm for the heroes - until Maleficent finds a way to circumvent the prophecy that foretells her demise. Emma and Killian must now race against the clock to save one of their children from a fate worse than death while battling their own internal demons. Can they finally defeat Maleficent before she becomes an unstoppable evil?
1. Prologue

_It's finally hereeee!_

 _This is the sequel to my S4 Canon-Divergence fic, Days of Future's Past. There are a lot of dynamics and backstory within Days that carries into this story so I'd heavily advise you read it before this one, other wise you'll spend most of the time scratching your head wondering who the characters are and why x is happening. For those who did read Days, welcome back to the universe! I have been **dying** to get back to this world and finish out our heroes' story! It's stated in Chapter 1 (which will go up in a week or 2) but this story begins 6 months after the events in Days of Future's Past. _

_As always, enjoy, and reviews feed the muse!_

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

On the shores of a vast and still lake, beneath the canopy of stars that had bore witness to the creation of all realms, stood a lone figure.

She would have been considered a vision if any mortal had been there to witness her presence, her beauty unparalleled except for that of Aphrodite's. Her features were soft with her skin glowing alabaster in the moonlight, her black hair cascading down her shoulders and a stark contrast to the white gown that hugged her form. For centuries Mankind had written poems and songs about her, weaving her name and title into their tales until she was nothing more than a legend in their world - a faceless and forgotten woman. But they would never know the true depth of her being. She had been a fixed point in the cosmos since the dawn of time, born from the raw magic of the world and placed as its guardian before Mankind had even winked into existence. Power that not even the Dark Ones would have been able to comprehend flowed through her veins and seeped into the very air around her.

Everything began and ended with her. She had seen the turn of centuries, countless wars and the births of nations, a witness to humanity's light and its most evil acts.

 _Evil was not limited to only humanity_ she thought mournfully, her hazel eyes moving from the still lake at her feet to the moon that hung high overhead. Her own race was responsible for some of the most despicable acts the gods had ever seen. The ornate box that sat under lock and key in the ancient temple behind her _had_ been the source of Mankind's evils, including the one that was threatening to spread once again.

"M'lady."

Turning from the waning full moon she saw three black robed figures standing behind her on the cobblestone path that lead to the ancient temple. The one on the right held a simple spindle of yarn in its hands while the middle figure grasped a gnarled and aged staff, a white orb at its apex. The final figure seemed to be empty handed but she knew within the depths of its robes lay a pair of golden shears with the sharpest of edges. They were all of the same height and build, the hoods of their robes pulled down low so as to obscure their features but she knew what lay beyond the darkness of their cowls. She was one of the few who had ever been allowed to gaze upon the faces of the Moirai.

"I was not expecting to see you so soon," she greeted warmly, her ring adorned fingers interlocking against the front of her gown.

"The sands of time dwindle as we approach the hour of the Twice-Blessed Children fulfilling their destiny," the hooded figure to the right responded.

"It is almost time," the other two intoned in unison.

"How much longer?" she asked quietly despite the fact they were the only beings in the realm. She had felt the universe shifting into place for some time now, the planets and fate aligning to fulfill the words that had been written so long ago. Every passing of the new moon brought it closer but even she was not privy to all of Fate's design - only the three who stood before her held that burden.

The orb at the top of the middle figure's staff glowed briefly before it's owner's voice spoke softly.

"In two new moons the final battle will begin."

She nodded at the answer. In less than three fortnights the moment she had spent ages preparing for would finally come to pass. With the help of the Moirai she had moved every delicate piece throughout the centuries to ensure those that were suppose to stand in the end would be there, a dangerous chess game where free will, fate, and her own interferences tangled like a sailor's knot.

"And my sister will succeed in her endeavour?"

"She must in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled," the figure holding the spindle replied.

The robed figure on the left nodded and she caught a glimpse of the wrinkled face beneath the hood. "She sealed her fate the day she broke the laws of your magic, M'lady."

"I know," the woman whispered forlornly, swallowing against the bile of regret that rose sharply within her throat. She knew the Moirai were right - the path her sister had taken that would lead to her downfall was one of her own making. There had been so much promise within her, a talent and power that none of the other Sisters of Avalon had ever shown and in a singular moment her sister had forever altered her destiny. All magic came with a price, however, and their sacred laws made no excuse for actions that were taken because of a broken heart.

"Are you prepared to walk another sister into the endless mist?"

She nodded before the middle figure had even finished asking the question. _Yes_. It cut her to her very soul every time she had to make that journey but it was a necessity. She may regret many things and wish that different choices had been made, but in the end she was the guardian of their magic and she must do everything in her power to protect it.

It wouldn't be the first time she had to set aside personal feelings for the greater good.

Shaking her head against the memory of what she had lost centuries before, the woman smiled softly. "Thank you for keeping me informed."

"Of course, M'lady," the three figures said in unison, bowing their heads in the ultimate sign of respect. In the blink of an eye the Moirai were gone, leaving no trace that they had ever been there.

Alone once again, she turned back to the lake and stepped forward, the still waters rippling as she walked towards it center. There was still much to be done before the final battle was fought - truths to be learned, guidance to be given, and hearts prepared for what must be done to ensure the safety of all the realms. It would be a long and perilous journey for The Twice-Blessed Children but their souls were true, the same magic that had created her flowing through their veins. They would fulfill the destiny she had placed upon their shoulders long before the stars had seen the birth of their father. The Darkness, the counter point to who they were, would finally come to an end.

As her eyes closed and she sunk fully beneath the water, a line from the prophecy came unbidden to her mind.

 _And they shall be born in the heart of the storm - one fair, one dark - the children of the light and the dark, two halves forever bound in destiny by the Darkness._


	2. Ch 1: I'm Late For a Very Important Date

**Huge thanks to always-been-a-pirate and spartanguard for the beta services!**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: I'm Late For a Very Important Date**

* * *

She was going to be late and it was all her brother's fault.

Erin Jones cursed inwardly as she hid in the shadows of an alcove, waiting for the guard on duty to make his next round. She _should_ be at home mentally preparing herself for the ball that was being thrown tomorrow night but no; instead she was sneaking around an unknown castle in the dead of night with nothing but her magic, sword, and sharp wit to protect her. All so her brother could attend the ball on time - not that it would have been good for him to be late. It _was_ a ball celebrating his upcoming wedding, after all.

She was also certain her best friend and future sister-in-law would not have taken kindly to being thrust into the spotlight by herself while her fiance was off stealing a scepter, even if it was for the greater good of the realm.

Which is exactly how Erin ended up with this task. Generally she was the one who received the bulk of the 'retrieve this dangerous weapon from this psychopath' missions, a facet of her life as a royal that she rather enjoyed. She hated being cooped up within the castle walls for long periods of time—the thirst for adventure she had inherited from her father running strong within her veins—and retrievals were almost always fraught with some kind of danger, which she relished. That was a trait her father would insist came from her mother. Having just returned from a retrieval herself and in need of a small break, her grandfather had tasked Liam with securing the scepter while he wasn't on duty for the Royal Navy. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem for him to take on the task but there was an urgency to this mission, a need to get the scepter as quickly as possible that overlapped the timeframe of the ball and it had become apparent there was no way he could undertake it without possibly being late to his own celebration—or worse, missing it entirely.

Liam had begged her to take over the retrieval, calling in just about every favor he owed her, but in the end Erin had agreed to do it simply out of love for her brother. She could see how stressed her brother already was over the impending ball preparations and she knew Elizabeth was terrified of the possibility that she'd be left to deal with the royalty of neighboring kingdoms without the support of her fiance. Enduring a frigid realm was worth it if she could give two people she loved peace of mind.

Only a two day retrieval had turned into four - the wizard's castle was more fortified than they had originally suspected - and now Erin was going to be the one late to the ball.

She was certain her grandmother was going to be livid about that fact. Snow White was a punctual woman who organized events as thoroughly as she commanded armies and this was no ordinary, run-of-the-mill ball. This was a celebration of her brother's impending nuptials, a family affair, and Snow White didn't care what was going on when it came to family - no one was allowed to be late. Even if they were saving the realm from an insane wizard with a scepter that could control people's minds.

She was sure to receive a lecture from her grandmother on the situation and she was firmly going to blame Liam.

At the sound of approaching footfalls Erin sunk further into the shadows, wrapping her black cloak tighter around her to ensure the torchlight didn't reflect off her hair or sword. The guard dressed head to toe in chainmail passed by her hiding spot, eyes trained forward and never once seeing her. As soon as he rounded the corner Erin was moving, walking on the balls of her feet to prevent her own steps from being heard as she made her way to the wooden door that lay at the end of the hall. She had spent the last two days studying the routine of the guards and knew she only had a few minutes before he made his way back around.

Reaching the door, she hesitantly brought her hand forward and wasn't surprised when it grazed an unseen barrier inches from the wood that pulsed a vibrant blue. It was a protection spell, although thankfully not a blood one. Pulling a small bottle from her inner vest pocket, she quickly popped the cork and threw its contents towards the invisible barrier. The protection spell on the door flared brightly for a few seconds before dissipating and Erin sighed in relief when the handle turned effortlessly - apparently, the crazy wizard didn't think he needed to lock his doors as long as a weak protection spell was on them. She quickly entered and shut the door, the latch catching quietly just as the sound of the returning guard's boots reached her ears.

Pushing back the hood of her cloak, Erin turned and surveyed the room. It was modestly sized for its owner's ego, filled with overflowing bookcases lining every wall and cluttered tables spaced throughout that would have driven 'everything in its proper place' Regina mad. A doorway leading to a small balcony to her right showed her the waning full moon hanging low in the night sky and she quietly groaned. She was going to be _very_ late.

She immediately went to the wizard's work tables in search of the scepter. This wasn't the first time she had traveled to the kingdom in the far North to retrieve a dangerous magical object from him - she was fairly certain her last visit two years ago had prompted the increase in guards - and he wasn't a particularly bright man despite his extensive magical training. She was hoping he had just left the damn thing lying around for easy access. She hated the cold land of Narnia with a passion and wanted to be back in warmer climates as soon as possible.

Not that she was going to have any peace once she returned home. Her grandmother had planned the wedding of the century for Liam and Elizabeth - complete with carriage rides, doves, every flower the kingdom had to offer, and a guest list that had made even Regina's eyes widen. It was a huge event not only for the family but the entire kingdom, one Snow White had planned with absolute zeal since Erin had deprived her of planning a large wedding. She had always hated the pomp and circumstance of royal weddings and had refused to have one, choosing to marry Matthew in his grandmother's rose garden instead. It wasn't that she begrudged her grandmother for going overboard with planning the wedding - far from it, actually.

It had been six months since she and Liam traveled back in time to bring the past versions of their parents to the future and save their mother. As far as peaceful times went, the last six months had been the most peaceful the Charmings had seen since Erin was a teenager. No villains to fight, no kingdom wars to prevent - just peace and happiness. Even Maleficent, who had been the proverbial thorn in their sides since before Erin was born, had been quiet. Erin had learned early on that growing up in her family meant enjoying the quiet moments whenever they appeared and she knew at the end of the day that was all her grandmother was really trying to do. The fact that they had a prolonged quiet moment to give her brother and Elizabeth the wedding they deserved was a miracle in and of itself, and her grandmother was just making the best of it. Even if it did mean driving everyone in the family insane. The wedding was a little under three weeks away, however, and Erin knew it would be one detail crisis after another once she returned to Misthaven, and she was not looking forward to it.

Contemplating how she could get out of actually wearing a dress to her brother's wedding while rummaging through boxes for the scepter, she stilled when she heard the door behind her open and shut quickly. She had been hoping to get through this without any bloodshed but apparently that wasn't going to be the case. Turning and unsheathing her sword in one fluid movement, she placed the very sharp tip directly in line with the cloaked intruder's neck as they turned towards her.

"Bloody hell!"

It took her the fraction of a heartbeat to recognise the voice. "Eric!" she hissed, instantly lowering her sword.

The hood of the cloak was pushed back to reveal the young pirate captain that was aiding her in her retrieval, black hair disheveled and green eyes wide with surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered. "You're suppose to be waiting for me on the ship!"

A dark eyebrow rose. "And leave you to have all the fun? What kind of pirate do you take me for, Jones?"

"The kind that almost got a sword through his neck," Erin muttered as she sheathed her sword.

"Ah, yes. Tell me, is it a requirement of the Jones women to hold sharp objects to a pirate captain's throat at least once in their lifetime?"

Erin rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure that makes at least three times I've done it to you."

"What can I say, women find me irresistible," Eric replied with a cheeky grin.

Refusing to admit to him that she found him attractive on any level, Erin huffed quietly and turned back to the tables she had been searching. The truth was she could use all the help she could get by the look of the wizard's disorganized stockroom. They only had an hour or two at max to locate the scepter, avoid the seven levels of guards, and climb over snow covered mountains to get back to Eric's ship that was anchored a few miles offshore before the wizard started his daily torture routine.

That, and not be late for her brother's ball.

She watched the pirate captain move to the far corner of the room and open a large chest, his brow furrowed as he rifled through its contents. No matter what she said to him, she really was glad he was here with her. He had made the four day retrieval less lonely, helping her observe the guard's patrol patterns and keeping her entertained when she thought she was going to go crazy from the ever persistent cold aboard his ship. And despite the fact he pushed her buttons at every turn, she genuinely _enjoyed_ having him on these missions. He was a quick thinker, always willing to go along with whatever hair-brained scheme she concocted to get them out of a pinch with minimal complaining, and was an asset to have in any kind of fight.

There was also the fact she had become overtly protective and didn't want him out of her sight over the last six months.

She had felt that way ever since they defeated the Snow Queen. There had been something about walking into the same courtyard where she lost Matthew and seeing Maleficent holding Eric prisoner that had given birth to her all-consuming fear. She was afraid to let him out of her sight and had all but demanded he take one of the empty rooms in the family wing of the castle to keep him closer. Not that she had _told_ him that when she gave him no choice but to move into the castle…

* * *

" _You want me to what?"_

" _Move into the castle," Erin repeated, like she were simply asking him to bring her a glass of rum. "There are a few empty rooms on the family wing that are just collecting dust until Neal or Liam have children."_

 _Eric continued to stare at her in confusion, the bundle of rope he had been about to haul onto his ship hanging loosely from his right hand. "Have you hit your head recently?"_

" _No," Erin scoffed. "I just think it's a good idea."_

" _Well, I don't."_

 _Erin crossed her arms beneath the heavy winter cloak she had donned before coming to the docks. "And why not?"_

" _Because I'm not a member of the royal family," he replied, gesturing to himself with his free hand as if his attire alone spoke to that statement._

" _So? You're a_ friend _of the royal family."_

" _It's not the same thing and you know it," Eric dead panned. "Besides, I have the_ _ **Mermaid's Mist**_ _."_

" _And ships get cold in the winter time. I know, I've spent my fair share of them on board the_ _ **Jolly Roger**_ _." Erin shivered at the memory of trying to stay warm beneath a mountain of blankets in her cabin as the cold night air seeped into every surface the enchanted ship had. "The castle has fireplaces and comfortable beds at least."_

" _I'm a sailor, Jones. I'm use to the numbing cold that comes with living on a ship during the harsher months."_

 _Erin rolled her eyes. "Can you stop being stubborn for five seconds?"_

 _A barking laugh escaped Eric at her words. "_ _ **I'm**_ _being stubborn?_ _ **You**_ _are the one who came down here and demanded I move into the castle."_

" _And you're making up every excuse you can not to accept the invitation."_

" _Of course I am! I'm not a member of the royal family or high nobility, it wouldn't be right for me to-"_

" _Yes, it would!" Erin snapped, her temper flaring. She had tried to remain calm but the remnants of her nightmare were still playing before her eyes, the image of his heart in Maleficent's hand haunting her even as she stood on the docks. It had been what spurred her to come down here and ask him to move into the castle. She couldn't rest knowing he was so far away, that if some villain attacked she would have no way to get to him or protect him, just as she had been unable to do during the fight with Maleficent a few weeks ago._

" _Why in Hades' realm does it matter so much to you that I move into the bloody castle?" he asked and Erin felt her heart hammer against her chest at the question. She couldn't tell him the real reason she wanted him in her home because that would open up a conversation she wasn't ready to have. No, she had to think of another reason. One that was plausible and would get past even her mother's lie detector..._

" _Everything okay?"_

 _Erin turned to see her grandmother walking toward them, the Queen of Misthaven's white cloak blowing softly in the cold wind that came from the sea and Erin had never been more thankful for the other woman's ability to appear at the oddest of times. If there was anyone who could help her with this, it was her grandmother._

" _Grandma! Just the person I wanted to see!"_

" _I am?" Snow asked, clearly confused as Erin moved to stand next to her._

" _Yes! I was just telling Eric he needed to move into the castle and he seemed to think it wouldn't be right for him to do so. Can you please tell him that he's wrong?"_

 _Eric huffed, clearly unprepared for Erin to throw him under the proverbial ship. "Your Majesty-"_

" _Actually, I think that's a wonderful idea."_

 _Erin couldn't help but smile smugly at the shocked pirate captain._

" _Pardon me?"_

 _Snow shrugged. "After everything you've done for this family I think the least we can do is offer you a place in our home, Eric."_

 _Erin sighed internally at her grandmother's response - it was the perfect reason to hide her real motives for getting Eric into the castle. And because it was the truth - he had fought beside them during every villain attack over the last four years and risked his life a number of times - it would slide right past her mother's super power._

 _Eric shook his head. "But I'm not a member of the royal-"_

" _So?" Snow inquired, using the same exact tone Erin had not five minutes earlier. "Neither is Will and he has a permanent room. You can take Elizabeth's old room in the family wing - she's been staying with Liam since they no longer feel the need to hide their relationship."_

" _I'm grateful, truly I am, but I can't-"_

 _Snow's chin tilted up. "Captain D'Harper, are you refusing a direct request from the Queen in whose kingdom you currently have your ship berthed?"_

 _Erin wasn't one bit surprised to see Eric's eyes widen and his back straighten at her grandmother's words. Snow White might have lived a good portion of her life as a bandit and in another realm where royalty wasn't needed, but when she had to, she could be every inch the queen she was born to be. Erin had seen grown men and kings of much wealthier kingdoms tremble when her grandmother used her royal tone and she knew Eric wouldn't argue with it either._

" _No, of course not, Your Majesty," he said at length, eyes flickering from Snow to Erin. "I'd be honored to accept the invitation."_

" _Wonderful! Now that that is taken care of, I'll be on my way. I've got to find another pirate captain who happens to be married to my daughter and inquire as to why my husband woke up with a rum induced hangover in the castle gardens this morning."_

* * *

Eric's living arrangements hadn't been the only thing to change since Erin began fearing something would happen to him if she wasn't around. In the past, it wasn't unheard of for him to go on small retrieval missions by himself but now she insisted on going with him, a fact he seemed oblivious to. Having him out of her sight in dangerous situations made her anxious, especially if her nightmares had been plaguing her.

Even those had altered since the defeat of the Snow Queen. They were a horrific blend now, Morpheus not only making her relive Matthew's death in excruciating detail but the moment Eric had been held captive by her greatest enemy. The nightmares with Eric were never the same however - sometimes he was cut with the dagger and other times his heart was crushed, but the end result was always the same. She lost him, forever helpless to stop his death despite all the magic and skill at her disposal. She hadn't dwelled on what the change in her nightmares meant or even allowed herself to think about it. To do so would be to admit _why_ the thought of losing him terrified her and just as she had been on the day she begged him to move into the castle, she wasn't ready to admit that yet.

Distracted by her thoughts, she didn't see the heavy lid on the box she had been sifting through closing until it fell onto her fingers. Extracting her hand from the box with a jerk, she let loose a litany of quiet curses that would have made even her sailor of a father blush.

"You okay?" Eric asked, looking up from the item strewn table he had been searching.

"Bloody fine," she hissed, glaring down at the box like it had offended her mother. "We're never going to find this thing, are we?"

"We'll find it, Jones. We just have to keep-"

The sudden jiggling of a door handle had both of them freezing and two pairs of green eyes met across the room.

"Why is this door locked?!" bellowed a deep voice from the other side of the door and Erin closed her eyes in exasperation. _What was the damn wizard doing here early?_

"None of us have been near the door, Master," came the reply from who she assumed was the guard they had snuck past. Turning, she saw Eric had in fact latched the door when he entered.

"Well it didn't lock itself, did it?!" There was a brief pause and then the wizard snarled, "My protection spell is gone! Who's in there?!"

Before she could even take one step toward the balcony to conceal her magical presence, Erin felt the undeniable push of searching magic flow over her and she knew the jig was up.

"It's that witch again! Break this door down - I want her head!"

"Bloody hell!" Erin cursed, raising her hand and throwing her own protection spell around the door. She knew it wouldn't keep them out forever but it would hopefully by her time to find the scepter and a way out. Spinning around, she threw stealth out the window as she hastily began to toss objects to the floor.

"Eric, we've got to find that scepter!"

Not needing to be told twice, the young pirate captain began emptying chest after chest, kicking and throwing objects to either side as he searched. Not finding the scepter wasn't an option. The wizard was a madman who had come to power through brute force alone and was currently using the scepter's magic to gain control not only of this region of Narnia, but the entire kingdom. And that was something they couldn't allow to happen. Her grandfather had promised the High King of Narnia that they would stop the wizard in his tracks and she was bloody well going to keep the promise.

"That damn thing _has_ to be in here!"

"What did it bloody look like?" came Eric's muffled question from beneath one of the tables.

Knocking a cauldron over and side stepping its contents Erin replied, "Blue, with like gold leafing or something!"

" _A-ha!_ I fou- no, never mind. No gold leafing."

Erin looked up in time to see said blue scepter without gold leafing get tossed from beneath the table and hit the stone wall, shattering into hundreds of pieces. The guards were now hammering on the door with a large object, their efforts rattling the old wood in its iron hinges and she knew they were running out of time. Her protection spell wouldn't hold for long, not against the likes of this wizard, and if they were still in here when he came in, it would be a magical battle she wasn't prepared for. Emptying the last chest on the table she had been searching, she started to move to another when something caught her eye. It was a rectangular wooden box with gold runes etched into the wood and it immediately reminded her of the box Regina kept a wand in. Flipping the lid open, she saw that the interior was lined with red velvet and inside lay a foot long scepter. Its surface was dark blue and had gold leaf running down the length of it with a large and circular diamond embedded into its top. _Was that…._

"Out of the way, you fools!" came the wizard's sudden sharp demand and the hammering against the door ceased.

She knew instantly upon picking up the specter that this was what they had come for. She could feel its magic pulsing in her hand and although her magic detection skills were still rudimentary compared to that of her mother or Regina, she could tell the magic imbued within the scepter belonged to Aslan, the White Sorcerer of Narnia.

"Eric, I found it!"

The young pirate captain scrambled from beneath the table he had been searching under, a huge grin appearing on his face as he looked at the scepter in her hand. Before she could say another word though his eyes moved to something behind her and the smile disappeared from his face.

"What the bloody hell is _that_?!"

Turning to see what had caught his attention, Erin's eyes widened as she saw streaks of lightning slowly seeping through the doorway, their blue color vivid in the torch lit room. With her focus no longer on the scepter she could feel the wizard's magic in the air, her own humming just beneath her skin in response. Securing the scepter onto her belt she spun around and all but shoved Eric toward the balcony.

"We have to get out of here - _now!_ "

Bursting through the doors that led onto the balcony, Erin's breath caught momentarily as the cold hit her, her light cloak doing nothing to shield her from the freezing wind. It was the kind of cold that seeped instantly into the bones and muddled the mind, her body shuddering as it fought to retain its heat and she swore if she made it out of this alive, she would never again complain about visiting her Aunt Elsa. She moved as quickly as her rapidly numbing body would allow to the stone railing, green eyes taking in their surroundings. The wizard's castle sat high on the side of a mountain, almost precariously placed and ready to topple over with nothing surrounding them but the looming peaks of Narnia's most dangerous mountain range. The storeroom they had raided was at the very top of one of the castle's towers and the balcony opened into thin air, no crevice or stone structure anywhere in sight for them to climb down - not that her freezing body could have attempted that route anyway. Peering over the railing and squinting against the freezing wind that battered her face, Erin estimated the drop to the snow-covered floor below was at least 1,000 feet - another exit they couldn't take.

"What was that?" Eric asked, coming to stand next to her as she leaned back from the railing and having to shout to be heard above the wind.

"This wizard specializes in lightning magic," she explained, trying in vain to ignore the way her teeth were already chattering. "If he finds us it will only take one wave of his hand to incinerate both of us!"

Eric stared at her for a long second, clearly wondering why she hadn't divulged _that_ piece of information before now.

"Right, then we best get moving."

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" Erin inquired, her arm dramatically jerking to their surroundings. "We didn't bring rock climbing gear!"

"Can't you just…" Eric pulled one of his hands from inside the cloak he was feebly trying to hold closer to his body, mimicking the hand movement she did when using magic. "Translocate us out of here?"

"Not unless you want to end up in two different places. I still can't do it properly."

"You did it six months ago when Maleficent attacked!"

"Don't you think I bloody know that?" Erin snapped, her toes curling in her boots from the cold. "It's the one and only time I've been able to do it. Mom has been giving me lessons for the past six months and all I've managed to do is translocate half a vase into the courtyard fountain."

"Oh, _bloody hell_!"

Ignoring Eric's curse, Erin tried to focus on the situation at hand and not the biting cold that felt like it was turning her blood into ice. This was _not_ how it was suppose to go. They were going to find the scepter, sneak out the same way they had come in, and retrieve their cold weather cloaks before making the trek back to his ship - not become stranded with no escape route and freezing to death. To make matters worse she could sense the wizard's magic growing, her protection shield around the door weakening with every second.

She was _not_ going to die on the bloody side of a mountain. She was a survivor, dammit - she had lived through countless curses, time travel, a kidnapping - this wasn't how it was going to end. Maybe she could magically create a rope for them to climb down…

A loud explosion rocked the tower and Erin gasped at the sheer force of magic that flowed over her as the wizard blew the door apart. They were out of time - and options.

As she heard people rushing into the room behind them her mother's words from her first magic lesson echoed back to her. _Magic is about emotion, Erin. No matter how much you may want to complete the act without emotion, it won't ever happen._ Looking to Eric, she knew what she had to do. It was risky and could possibly get them killed, but it was their only option. Moving forward she pushed Eric's hands away from where they had been holding his cloak closed and grasped the front of his black vest, her hands so numb from the cold she couldn't even feel it's leathered texture.

"Wrap your arms around me."

"What?" Eric asked in confusion, doing as she bade nonetheless and pulling her to him until there was no space left between them.

Craning her neck so she could look into his eyes she whispered, "Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation, he answered. "With my life."

As the forms of the guards appeared at the balcony doors and the wizard's magic surged through the air Erin tightened her grip on Eric's vest and threw all of her weight to the left, sending them both over the railing.

* * *

"Do you think Erin and Eric are okay?"

An amused chuckle had Emma looking up from the latest kingdom report she had been reading while in bed to see her husband of twenty-nine years walking into their bedroom. Time and the effect of so many curses had been kind to him, touching his handsome face with only a few extra laugh lines and adding streaks of gray into his hair right at the temples, though she had begun to notice a few silver strands elsewhere on his head over the last six months. He was in his trademark leather pants and the black vest that was cut and styled similar to the red one he had worn for centuries. His hair was even more disheveled than normal which spoke to the fact he had lost the battle with their granddaughter and had spent the last hour telling her more bedtime stories than he had originally intended.

"They're in Narnia, love," Killian replied while making making his way towards the fireplace. "The biggest threat they face is Erin pushing D'Harper over a cliff when he complains about the cold one too many times."

Emma raised an unamused eyebrow at her husband's back as he knelt to stroke the fire. Spring had finally arrived in Misthaven after a rather brutal winter, but while the days were cool and no longer required wool lined cloaks, the cold remnants of winter still stubbornly clung to the nights and forced them to light the fireplaces. Not that she minded. There was something to be said for watching your husband make love to you as the fire painted his skin in shades of amber.

"You're only saying that because you _hope_ she does."

"It wouldn't be the worst scenario that could come from their trip," she heard him mutter and Emma had to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing. Killian Jones may be able to accept the fact his daughter had fallen in love with a pirate and even begrudgingly respected the younger pirate captain, but that didn't mean he liked it. Deciding to get her husband back for his little quip the other day about their son's _nightly_ activities with his fiancee, Emma carefully schooled her face into a blank mask and cleared her throat.

"Or she could decide the best way to beat the cold is to share body heat."

A thrill of victory shot through her at the choking sounds Killian made and it took every ounce of control she possessed not to burst into a fit of giggles when he stood and turned towards her in one movement, a horrified look on his handsome face.

"They wouldn't."

"Why not? _We_ did while we were there and if memory serves that lead to a rather vigorous round of-"

The indignant sound her husband made in the back of his throat finally set Emma's laughter off. _Honestly, it was almost too easy to get him worked up._ When her laughter subsided a few minutes later she saw Killian still standing in front of the fireplace, hand and hook on his waist and a very unamused look on his face.

"That wasn't funny, Swan."

"I thought it was," she said, wiping the tears that had gathered in her eyes as she laughed. "Serves you right for your little comment about Liam's inherited stamina in the bedroom."

Killian huffed and Emma couldn't keep the smile off her face as he walked to the water basin, mumbling under his breath about _traitorous wives who like to give their husbands heart attacks_. The teasing banter between them had always been an aspect of their relationship she loved. It spoke to how comfortable they were with one another and that their relationship had been founded on mutual respect and trust, becoming a staple in their marriage and an unlikely tradition. She always teased him about being jealous of himself and even thirty years after the fact, he was still cracking jokes about her almost marrying a flying monkey.

 _That_ had been fun to explain to the kids once they were old enough to understand.

The thought of her children had Emma looking away from Killian as he began cleaning the kohl from his eyes to the pile of parchment that lay on her nightstand. She _was_ rather concerned about Erin. She always worried about any of her children when they went off but the reports they had received on the wizard who possessed the scepter kicked her maternal side into an even higher state. Ethics and morality were not part of his vocabulary and he'd fallen further into the realm of madness over the last few years, making him unhinged and his actions unpredictable. She hadn't wanted Liam to go either but as the Sheriff of Misthaven and a decent human being, she understood why it needed to be retrieved. Erin was always careful, but all it would take was one wrong move for her daughter to become a madman's prisoner….

"Are you truly worried about them?"

Tearing her gaze away from the very reports that had sent her daughter to the far North, Emma looked up to find Killian still standing at the water basin, a dry towel in his hand and those perceptive blue eyes locked on her. _Of course he'd be able to tell how worried she was._

"A little," she admitted. "I read the report on the wizard and he's become even more volatile since the last time Erin went and retrieved an object for him."

Killian nodded in understanding, the towel he had been drying his hand on tossed to the edge of the water basin. "He has but Erin knows how to protect herself. She's our daughter and a _very_ resourceful woman when it comes to getting out of tight situations... And as much as it pains me to say this, she also has Eric. "

Humming in agreement, she gave her husband a teasing smile. "He's growing on you."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far, love," he muttered, walking across the room towards their large wardrobe. "I just sleep better at night knowing he'd give his life to protect my daughter."

It was a bold face lie and Emma didn't need her super power to know that. Deciding not to call her husband out on it, she steered the conversation towards a subject that had unfortunately become a daily part of their lives over the last six months.

"Has there been any news on Maleficent?"

"Nothing new," Killian replied, gracefully kicking off his boots before undoing the buttons of his vest with practiced movements. "The last reports we received still have her hiding away in her castle."

Emma nodded, not the least bit surprised that there wasn't a new development where Maleficent was concerned. Physically penetrating the Dark Forest that surrounded her castle was impossible, the blackened trees and overgrown thorns magically protected by the Dark Fairy's magic and even in her weakened state, it was still strong enough to repel the Blue Fairy's attempts to enter. They had been left with no other option but to send Blue to the edge of the Dark Fortress multiple times a week to sense out her kin's movements and physical strength. There had been no change in the weekly reports until just a few weeks into the new year when Blue returned and told them that Maleficent had finally regained her strength. For the last two months they had been waiting, soldiers on standby and Emma and Regina constantly testing the magical barrier they had recast after sending their past selves back in time but no attack had come.

"Maybe she's finally given up on this vendetta against us," Emma thought aloud, surprised she had finally voiced the thought that had been niggling at her for the last few weeks. _Why else would Maleficent be fully healed and not coming after them?_

Killian instantly shook his head at her words. "She hasn't given up."

"You don't think so?"

"I know she hasn't because I didn't." Shrugging the embroidered black fabric from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor he continued, "I was once blinded by that same need for revenge, love. That level of hatred, the kind that settles into your very soul and is the only thing you breath and eat, doesn't die because one plan failed. Rumple surviving his Dreamshade poisoning certainly didn't make my thirst for vengeance disappear."

Emma gave her husband a hard look as he pulled the flowing shirt over his head. "You were _not_ like Maleficent, Killian. You had a viable reason to seek revenge against Rumple - he _did_ kill Milah. Maleficent has always blamed us for Lily's death when she was the one who pulled the trigger out of a need to make my parent's pay."

"Revenge is revenge, love."

Emma scoffed quietly, ignoring her husband's raised eyebrow as he began to work on the laces of his pants. He was _nothing_ like the Dark Fairy. He never made excuses for his years spent lost to the darkness, always taking ownership of the actions he had made to get his revenge. Whenever they stumbled upon someone he had wronged during that time he was remorseful and sought to make amends no matter how big or small. He had spent every day since he turned his ship around becoming a better man - Maleficent had never done any of that. She had never accepted her part in Lily's death and had left a path of unapologetic destruction in her wake, not caring what scars she left on those she touched - their daughter being the one who carried the deepest of those scars.

"It's definitely odd that she's regained her physical strength but hasn't attacked us," Emma noted, watching with more than a passing interesting as her husband stripped off his leather pants and donned a pair of black cotton ones. Any other night he would have forgone the pants entirely, but with Erin in Narnia, it was almost a sure bet that their granddaughter would find her way into their bedroom, again, at some point in the night.

"Which fills me with unease rather than relief, I must admit."

"Because a quiet fairy is more dangerous than an active one?"

Nodding, Killian picked up his discarded clothes and tossed them into the depths of their wardrobe before shutting the large door and turning towards her. "She's up to something."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Emma said with a sigh, admiring the shifting muscles of her husband's toned upper body as he walked to his side of the bed. "The last time she was this quiet she had planned and executed Ingrid's release to terrorize us."

"And we all know how _that_ turned out," Killian muttered, loosening the straps on the brace that held his hook. Emma nodded, needing no reminder that by releasing Ingrid, Maleficent had set into motion the events that lead to Emma being put under a sleeping curse and trapped in an ice coffin while her younger children risked their very existence to go back in time to save her.

As Killian set his brace and hook on the nightstand, a habit from his pirating days he had never been able to break, she started to ask, "So, what do you-"

"Now, Swan, that's enough of that," Killian said suddenly, crawling across the length of their king-size bed with more speed and agility than a man of his actual age should possess. Before Emma could question him on why they were no longer going to talk about Maleficent he had reached her side and captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

Surprised but not complaining about her husband's sudden actions, she answered the slanting of his mouth over hers like she had a thousand times over the course of their relationship - instantly and with her tongue darting out to meet his in a well-practiced dance. She gave as good as she got, quick gasps of air taken before they dived back into each other with both fighting for dominance. When the intensity of the kiss grew, she reached for him, her right hand sinking into the gray and black strands of his hair while her left grasped his firm bicep. The reports she had been reading when he came in fluttered to the stone floor below as she shifted to be closer to him, internally cursing the large comforter that blocked her from his warm and semi-naked body.

He broke the kiss as suddenly as he had started it and her eyes fluttered open to find him staring at her heatedly. The coil of desire flared hotly within her stomach at the sight of his darkened eyes and kiss swollen lips.

"What was that for?" she asked, voice breathless and every inch the sound of a woman who had been thoroughly kissed.

"Because we've done enough talking about that blasted fairy for tonight," he murmured, nose brushing against hers sweetly as his breath puffed warm against her lips. "There's something I've been _aching_ to do all day."

"Oh?"

Killian hummed, his lips dipping down to ghost along her jaw before moving to her ear. "You denied me the pleasure of having you this morning, Swan."

His sensual words sent a shiver of desire down her spine and a moan slipped past Emma's lips as his own fell to latch onto a sensitive area of her neck.

"Kind of hard to have me when there was a six year old sprawled between us," she panted, fingers tightening in his hair as he sucked and laved at the spot he knew drove her wild.

"Precisely why I'm taking advantage of this time," he replied once he released her, nose skimming up her jaw before raising his head to look at her again. "I'd very much like to ravish my beautiful wife before our granddaughter comes in and takes up residence."

Emma felt rather than saw his hand pull at the neckline of her sleepwear, the deep v-cut of his pirate shirt instantly exposing her left breast as the material slid halfway down her arm. Keeping his eyes locked with hers he slowly traced from her collarbone down to the slope of her breast with the tips of his fingers, her core throbbing with desire as his blunted nails scraped deliciously across her hardened nipple.

"What do you say, love?"

The hand that had been using his hair as an anchor dropped to where he was already hard for her and a smirk pulled at her lips when he groaned indecently at the contact.

"Lead the way, _Captain_."

* * *

Later that night, Killian waited until she wrapped herself in her winter robe and stepped onto their balcony before he opened his eyes.

Their bedchamber was shrouded in shadows, the fire he had attended to after making love to Emma still burning within its stone confinements and chasing away the full darkness of night. From his position in their bed, he could see the slightly waning moon hanging low in the sky through the balcony doors, his knowledge as a sailor telling him it was closer to the witching hour than it was to dawn. His head turned on the overtly soft pillow when he heard Emma's trembling sigh from the balcony, just barely able to make out his wife's form through the darkness and see-through curtains as she stood at the railing that overlooked the sea.

Another nightmare had awoken her only moments before, whatever twisted vision she had seen causing her to sit up and gasp for air as if she were drowning. In the stillness of their bed chamber he had practically heard her heart hammering against her chest and it had taken everything in him not to end the charade of him being ignorant and reach for her. He had thought for the briefest of seconds as he pretended to still be asleep that she was finally going to turn to him, had even felt their large bed dip as she moved towards him, but just as she had every night since they began, she pulled away to seek solace on her own.

He knew full well how debilitating and lonely the remnants of one's time in the Netherworld could be. Nightmares had plagued him after his own encounter with a sleeping curse and he had turned to her for help in banishing them. It had taken almost a year of her gentle touch to coax the thoughts he had buried for centuries to the surface, her love finally easing the inner regrets that had fed his Netherworld visions.

But in the six months since she had awoken from the sleeping curse and started having nightmares, Emma had yet to tell him she was even experiencing them.

Logically he understood why she hadn't. While his wife had come a long way from being the guarded women he had met three decades before, old habits died hard. The visions of her loved ones expressing her regrets would have brought up feelings she thought long ago buried, and Emma's response to dealing with unexpected emotions had always been to withdraw into herself until she could get a grip on them. She had done it after Ursula kidnapped the twins and took them to Neverland but she had told him, voicing that she was working through something and then coming to him when she had figured out her emotions.

It was clear to him, however, that she wasn't making any progress on sorting out the emotions her nightmares were constantly churning up. The period between her waking up from one and coming back to their bed had steadily lengthened more and more as the months went on, and he had instantly noticed a shift in her behavior when it came to falling asleep. His Swan had always been a hard worker but she was spending longer days in her study, pouring over the same kingdom reports to prolong having to go to bed. They used to enjoy afternoon naps together, be it on the _Jolly Roger_ or in a sun-filled study, but since the nightmares had begun she had stopped joining him in their lazy tradition, perhaps fearful that she wouldn't be able to continue to hide them without the cover of darkness.

He had contemplated confronting her over the nightmares a million times but Killian knew his wife. He knew that if he pushed, she would only pull away more and the last thing he wanted to do was prolong her torture by making her feel like she was being backed into a corner. No, he would do as he always had and wait for her to come to him, enduring the sleepless nights by her side silently and without complaint...

The sudden jamming of a small knee into his ribs pulled him from his thoughts and Killian bit his lower lip to to keep from grunting. Moving his gaze from where Emma still stood on the balcony to the bed, he could just make out his granddaughter's form in the light of the fire. Hope had, as expected, crawled into their bed not long after they had fallen asleep, kneeing and elbowing her way in between them like a tiny kraken. She was currently on her back, the limbs that weren't digging into his body spread out wide while she used his left arm as a pillow, her angelic face turned away from him as she began to snore softly.

Once upon a time he had thought that only blonde princesses could hold his heart and then the raven-haired one next to him entered his life. Being a father and stepfather had always filled him with happiness but there was something about being a grandfather that made him absolutely giddy, filling something in his centuries old soul that he never knew had been missing. She was an absolutely delightful child - when she wasn't partaking in the pirate gene - and that was all because of her mother. His daughter had turned into a magnificent woman, strong and resilient, enduring the same sorrow he had but not letting it pull her into the darkness…

Killian frowned as a thought occurred to him. Erin's nightmares, while not the side effect of a sleeping curse, were nightmares nonetheless and she welcomed whatever comfort he could give her when they arose - but he was the only one. She didn't speak of them to anyone else, not even her mother or brothers despite the entire family knowing she had them. What if he wasn't the one Emma needed to overcome this, just as Erin turned away from everyone else but him to combat her nightmares? It had never occurred to him before that one of the regrets Emma may have involved him, which would explain why she hadn't even mentioned the nightmares. Not that he could think of anything in their relationship she would _need_ to regret. Even when she pushed him away with both arms during the Zelena crisis she had never done anything that would constitute…

A familiar whooshing sound had his eyes moving from Hope's sleeping from to the balcony just in time to see the white cloud of Emma's magic dissipating. She'd translocated herself, more than likely to the lower levels of the castle to start her nightly sojourn of wandering the halls until she came back to their bed exhausted. Killian sighed heavily at the thought, his heart and jaw clenching at the knowledge that the woman he loved more than life itself was suffering quietly when she didn't need to be. As Hope's knee dug further into his ribs he ran an agitated hand through his hair and cursed quietly.

It was time he brought their children in on what was going on with their mother.

* * *

Free falling through the air was about as much fun as traveling through a time portal, she decided.

It was that same feeling of being weightless yet also still able to feel gravity's weight, the sensation causing her stomach to roll dangerously. The world around her blurred, disorienting her sense of direction until she wasn't sure if they were falling head first or feet first. The freezing wind that had been relatively discomforting on the balcony was now unbearable and stabbed at the exposed skin of her hands and face until they were raw. Breathing was almost impossible, the speed with which they fell preventing her from taking more than quick gasps. What breaths she did manage to take were painful, the cold air tearing down her throat to settle into her lungs like daggers and she was certain ice had actually begun to form on the tips of her pointed ears.

Her magic hummed beneath her skin, ready to be used with a wave of her hand but the image of where she needed to take them kept flickering or disappearing altogether when her mind slipped back into awareness of just how cold she was. She knew if she attempted to translocate them without a clear picture of an end destination it would be disastrous. It had been the first thing her mother told her when they started her lessons and was the reason she had only been able to translocate half a vase. No matter how many times she had visualized a place the image always altered at the last second, causing her to panic but unable to stop the forward press of her magic once she began.

She _had_ to do it, though. If she didn't her insane last minute escape plan would be for nothing and her and Eric's broken bodies would end up at the bottom of the snow-covered mountains. Pulling on every ounce of discipline her parents had instilled in her, she pushed all thoughts of the cold to the back of her mind and conjured the image again, letting her mind's eye map out every piece of wood. When she had the full image again she started to move her right hand, her magic already surging towards her fingers but at the last second her mind registered the cold and the image blurred.

Tears gathered behind her closed eyes and frustration nearly drowned her. She couldn't do it. She had hoped that by putting her life in danger it would help her focus, forcing her to do what she hadn't been able to in the calm of her home. But it wasn't working. She couldn't stop thinking about how cold she was and she knew she was running out of time. They were plummeting closer and closer to the ground with every second that passed and it would only be a matter of minutes before they reached it. It was impossible…

Suddenly, Eric tightened his arms around her and above the coldness that had become her entire existence in the last few seconds, she felt his warm breath brush against her left ear.

"You can do it, Jones."

Warmth that didn't come from her magic washed over her at his words and she clung to it, focusing on how it started in her chest and spread to the rest of her body. She could still register the cold but it was now a distant sensation compared to the warmth. Tightening her numbed fingers around the labels of his vest, she conjured the image of his ship once again and the clarity with which it entered her mind nearly took her breath away. It was all there in perfect, unwavering detail - every piece of rigging, the expanse of deck, even the mark she had notched into the railing while fighting those damn water sprites years before.

This time when her right hand released its hold on him the image remained and with a wave of her wrist her magic surged forward, the familiar tingling racing up her arm as she felt smoke engulf them.

The world around her shifted as her magic transported them, the force of the air they fell through instantly dropping and the cold lessening, allowing her to breathe properly for what felt like the first time in decades. It took her a second longer than it should have to register that although they were no longer falling in the depths of the mountains, that they _were_ still falling. Before she could begin to figure out why Eric turned them in mid-air so that his body was below hers, and then they were crashing into a hard and unmoving surface.

The impact of Eric's back to the deck of his ship jarred her despite the fact not a piece of her own body touched the wood, a shocked gasp escaping her chapped lips as Eric grunted painfully. Her stomach churned at the sudden stop and she had to swallow against the bile that rose sharply within her throat to keep from retching. Taking a few deep breaths and ignoring the ache in almost every joint she possessed, Erin opened her eyes and looked up, an almost hysterical laugh escaping her at the sight of the _Mermaid's Mists'_ familiar rigging towering over her.

"Eric, I did it!"

A pained groan sounded from below her. "That you did, Jones."

Looking back down, she was about to ask him what the problem was when it hit her - Eric had turned them as they plummeted toward the deck and had taken the full force of their landing. With her heart pounding at the prospect of him being seriously injured, Erin quickly scrambled off him.

"Shit, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Eric answered, wincing as he rolled towards her and planted his hands on the deck. She helped him sit up as best she could with her own stiff movements and the tense set of his biceps beneath her hands didn't go unnoticed.

"Eric, are you sure you're okay?"

He nodded but another groan slipped past his lips the movement. "Just feel like I've been smacked full force by a boon is all." Rubbing gingerly at the back of his head he looked over her kneeling form. "Were you hurt?"

"A little sore from the abrupt landing but you took the brunt of it when you decided to be all chivalrous mid-air."

Eric chuckled. "Well, I couldn't let you get hurt, Jones. You did kind of translocate us about ten feet above the deck instead of on it."

Erin rolled her eyes at his playful ribbing as she pulled the scepter they had risked their lives for from her belt. "Yeah, well, just be glad I managed to get us over the ship and not in the bloody sea."

"How _did_ you do it?"

Caught off guard by the question, Erin looked up from admiring the scepter's large diamond to find Eric watching her intently.

"What?"

"I was just wondering what made you able to translocate us," he clarified with a stiff shrug of his shoulders. "You said on the balcony that you hadn't been able to do it successfully since Maleficent's attack."

"Oh."

Erin's brow furrowed as she thought back to when they had been falling through the air. She could pinpoint the exact moment awareness of her surroundings had faded and the image of Eric's ship had finally become stable in her mind. It was the unexplainable warmth she had felt after feeling like she was going to fail that had allowed her to focus long enough to get them to safety. She hadn't thought much of its origins in that moment, just thankful that something had happened to get the mental image to stabilize, but with Eric asking it forced her to analyze its source.

"I- I guess survival instinct kicked in and helped me concentrate long enough to keep us from plummeting to our deaths," she replied. A thought struck her and she chuckled, her blonde hair swaying with the movement of her head as she shook it. "Dad always says I do things better under pressure - guess he was right."

The image of her father's proud and smiling face had Erin looking out over the sea that bordered Narnia's southern border. Amid the glaciers that floated far into the horizon she could see the waning full moon and it's position made her groan.

"We should start heading home. Even with the wind in our favor we're going to be cutting it close getting back before Liam and Elizabeth's ball - and Hera help me if I _miss_ it. Grandma will have my head and chain the _Jewel_ to the docks until after the wedding."

Forcing her aching body to stand, Erin headed towards the guest cabin she had claimed for the trip. She was so intent on putting the scepter in a safe place and getting home that she never saw the dejectedness that filled Eric's eyes at her explanation.


	3. Chapter 2: A God's Promise

**Hey, look whose back from the land of dead writer's! This chapter was a beast because a lot of plot threads needed to be started, and just as I began writing the second scene I realised I had put my favorite Disney villain (Maleficent) and one of my beta's favorite Disney villain in a scene together. So I was really worried about fucking him up the entire time I was writing it, hahaha. One question I've gotten a lot that I wanted to address here - while this is a sequel to a time travel fic, there won't be any time travel shenanigans in this story. It will be purely based in the future universe of Days, and resolve a lot of plot points I started in the other fic.**

 **Huge, huge, huge thanks to spartanguard and always-been-a-pirate for beta reading and keeping me sane, even when I wanted to chuck the computer out the window.**

 **As always, enjoy, and reviews keep the muse going even when the writer starts to doubt!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: A God's Promise**

* * *

Since the dawn of time, mankind had feared the night.

Daylight was safe for them, the sun lighting the world and protecting their fragile existence from the beings that lurked in the shadows—those dark and fiendish creatures who used the blackness that enveloped the land to prey upon men. It was a time when witches and demons roamed freely, their power at its apex when the moon rose high in the night sky. Death came more swiftly with night, like long-lost friends who aided each other in a dance that had begun long before man walked the mortal world. When Nyx's cloak blanketed the world it hid everything, the forms of the creatures who walked beneath it merging with their surroundings, camouflaged by the most ancient darkness. The night could not hide the woman that stood on the balcony high atop the castle, however; her black form was darker than even the shadows that curled around her.

She did not fear the night for she was the Dark Fairy, the darkest of all beings.

Maleficent's blue eyes peered out over the vast landscape before her, taking in the Dark Forest that sprawled in every direction as far as the human eye could see. When she had been exiled from Avalon centuries before, this was where she had landed—broken, betrayed, and clipped of her wings—and she had made it her sanctuary. There was a solace to the barren land and the thorns that tangled themselves around blackened trees, an echo of her inner torment reflected in the deadly landscape. It was the perfect location for a shunned fairy to rebuild herself into one of the most feared creatures in any realm. Desolate and isolated, the forest had been here long before Man had begun to build his castles, a foreboding shield to any who dared enter it.

The land that had once sheltered her after a broken heart had done so once again as she healed from the catastrophe that had been her last battle with the Charmings.

Maleficent's hand tightened around the dark wood of her staff. Six months had passed since she came within a hairsbreadth of having everything she wanted, the taste of victory on the tip of her tongue as she wrapped her hand around the past Savior's heart. It wasn't how she had dreamed of getting her long sought-after revenge but all that mattered in that moment was seeing those who had been responsible for Lily's death suffer. The unraveling of the damnable prophecy that had heralded the prince and princess' birth would have been a happy byproduct of crushing the younger Savior's heart, the timeline be damned, yet in a blinding flash of light everything had been ripped away from her again. No one, not even the Mistress of All Evil, stood a chance against the power of true love.

With the dagger lost and physically weakened from the younger Savior's magic, she had used the last of her strength to translocate herself to the Dark Castle. After Diablo moved her limp body from the floor of her throne room and into a bed, time had ceased to move for her - night and day blurring together while her magic instinctively pulled her into a restorative sleep for two months. Her magic had remained as strong as ever upon waking but the past Savior's magical attack had left her physically weak, the invisible wound causing her to barely be able to move from one room to another without becoming severely fatigued. Maleficent had refused to give up in the four months it had taken her to fully regain her strength, the desire to see her revenge through until the end propelling her every step.

It was in the midst of her healing that she had begun to think of Avalon.

She hadn't thought of her homeland in centuries, content to forget the place that had made her who she was and the sisters that had turned their backs on her when she fully embraced her power. Unable to do anything else, she had let her mind wander through every memory she had of the magical isle—summer days spent around the various lakes, learning to control her magic, running barefoot through the tall grass and chasing her sisters beneath the giant trees that watched over them. She recalled the crystal clear waterfalls that lay at the heart of the island and the ancient ruins that had sat on its soil for eons before her own birth, their walls etched with the flowing language of her people. Most of her memories were happy ones and filled her with an odd contentment and peace she hadn't felt in centuries, yet others turned the blue of her eyes golden and caused a decades long anger to bubble within her darkened heart and almost choke her. The lectures, the clipping of her wings, being tossed into the world of Men…

With one last sweep of the seemingly endless forest, Maleficent abruptly turned and made her way into the castle. The one good thing to come from recalling her time in Avalon was she now had a foolproof way to defeat the Charmings and stop the prophecy from being fulfilled once and for all.

She had discovered the root of her new plan completely by accident. After attempting to travel back in time a fortnight ago and discovering the meddling heroes had sealed the time vortex—rendering time travel impossible—she returned to the books she had taken from Morgana's library after her death. Hoping the younger Sister of Avalon had written of a way to undo the sealing of the time vortex, Maleficent had pored through the former fairy's journals over the course of three days, scanning every entry, even if its subject had nothing to do with time travel. She had almost given up and resolved to find another way to make the Savior suffer when she stepped in front of a window with one of the books in her hand. There, on a page she had thought Morgana had intentionally left blank, words had appeared. The language itself hadn't surprised Maleficent—Morgana clearly preferred to write in Elvish over the common language of Man—but what _had_ surprised her was the method the Black Fairy had used to record them.

The fairies called them moon letters, words that were written using Mithril so that they they could only be read by moonlight. By stepping in front of the window, the light from the full moon had fallen onto the page and illuminated the silver ink. She had read the secret passage fervently, the book almost tumbling from her hands at the revelation her fellow exiled sister had penned. It was something Maleficent could use to ensure the prophecy that had hung over her head for the last twenty-seven years never came to pass, a piece of her homeland's history that would continue her plan from six months ago while ensuring _this_ time nothing got in her way.

Reaching the room's fireplace, Maleficent came to a halt and stared into the dying flames as they fought futilely against the darkness that tried to claim them. It was while plotting her new course for revenge, mind tumbling over Avalonian lore and a way to get the Savior's children out of the way, that she recalled a long-buried conversation from before she had been forced out of her homeland.

" _I'm sorry, Maleficent."_

" _Liar!"_

" _It's the truth. I-I'm sorry. Whatever I can do, no matter the time or place, I will make this up to you. You have my word."_

She had forgotten about the promise that had been made to her on the shores of Avalon, the one she had vowed never to call upon so long as her immortal body drew breath. Time was running out for her, however. The fulfillment of the prophecy that foretold the Savior's children defeating her was drawing closer and closer, though the exact moment it would happen was unknown to her. Maleficent could feel it in a way she never had before in the past twenty-seven years—it was a pounding in her blood, the fairy magic that even her exile couldn't take from her warning that the time drew near. Morgana's secret passage had revealed that the key to her demise was closer to the Savior's children than even they realised, and if she wanted to beat the Charmings and keep the prophecy from coming to pass, she had no choice but to see the one person she despised more than the Savior.

It was time to see a god about keeping his word.

* * *

He hated this time of year.

It was the one prevailing thought that kept running through Hades' mind as he sat on his onyx throne and scowled at the damned soul playing a large golden harp on the floor below him.

Spring was arriving in less than two days and with it came the departure of his wife. It happened every year, had for centuries longer than mankind could count, but he still despised it. The Underworld was always a little bleaker when its only light left and his own temperament darkened considerably during Persephone's absence, much to the dismay of those who dwelled within the confines of what could loosely be called his kingdom. It had been the deal though: six months with him and six in the Upper World, an accord that had been struck between himself and Zeus to keep his wife's mother from destroying all of mankind.

It was at times like this, however, that he wished he had let Demeter starve the mortals, even if it would have made his reign over the Underworld relatively short.

Huffing in annoyance, Hades stood and made his way down the black marble dais to one of the numerous flower pots that lined the circular floor of his throne room. He had never been one for living things taking root in his realm but he was unable to deny his wife anything, particularly this detail. Each waist-high pot held a bouquet of brilliantly white flowers with yellow centers, their six petals perfectly straight and coming to a slight point at the ends. The narcissus flower was special to him and Persephone. It was very the symbol of how they had met and because of that, it was the one living organism he allowed in the Underworld outside the perimeters of Elysium.

Bending at the waist to smell the arrangements that would never wilter, Hades let the unique floral scent calm his agitated mind. It wasn't fair to Persephone if he spent her last days in the Underworld angry and resentful over a decision that could never be undone. There would be time once she left for the Upper World to let his anger roam free, to unleash his frustration on the souls in need of punishment...

"I never took you for one who stopped to smell the flowers."

The harp music that had continuously been playing in the background came to a comical and sudden halt at the same moment Hades' entire body stilled. It had been centuries since he heard that voice but he would know it anywhere, the melodic cadence of her race mixing with the dark tone that had always been natural to her. Straightening to his full height, Hades turned to find the last person he had ever expected to encounter again, let alone in the Underworld.

"Maleficent."

The Dark Fairy stood at the center of his throne room, the rubies interwoven into her black dress shimmering in the eternally lit cauldrons that lay interspersed between each of Persephone's flower pots. She looked the same as she had the last time he saw her but in the same breath, she was a stranger. Evil seeped from her eyes where once innocence had dwelled and the immortal features he could still remember being soft and filled with jubilance were now hardened with malice. Even the way she held herself was achingly familiar yet different - her stance more confident, devoid of the wildness that had marked her youth.

A variety of questions flew through the God's head as he looked upon the woman he had almost spent eternity with. _What possible reason could she have to darken his door? Did she want something? How would Persephone react to Maleficent being here? Could he make her leave before his wife saw her?_ But the most prevailing one, the one that demanded an answer above all the others, was _how did she enter the Underworld?_

"I mean really, Hades - what would the pantheon think if they were to learn the Lord of the Underworld spent his free time sniffing weeds?"

Hades huffed in annoyance and without looking backwards waved his hand, sending the damned soul who had been playing the harp back to the depths of Tartarus. "You're the last person that should be giving gardening advice, Maleficent. How are you even here?

"What, no pleasantries?" she asked, red lips falling into an exaggerated pout. "No catching up on how we have spent the last hundred centuries or asking after each other's health? You wound me, Hades."

"Pleasantries are mute for those with an infinite lifespan," he replied without emotion, eyes following her as she began to move around the circular floor. "How did you get into the Underworld?"

She seemed to be taking in every aspect of his throne room, from the stalactites that hung high above their heads to the five river openings that flowed from different points beneath the black marbled floor. Coming to a stop at one of the flower pots, Maleficent traced the delicate petals of a narcissus flower with the tip of her finger. "I've always been partial to thorns but these are quite lovely—deadly to mortals too, if my memory is correct."

Although his face remained an emotionless mask, Hades could feel his temper rising with every evasive response from the Dark Fairy. The Underworld was not a realm that anyone could waltz into whenever they pleased—he had made sure of that so no mortal could enter and steal one of his subjects. Only the souls of the dead and Gods of the pantheon could enter his kingdom's boundaries, though Hermes was the lone one who did. Even as one of the most powerful fairies to ever exist, Maleficent shouldn't have been able to enter the Underworld.

"I won't ask again, Maleficent," he responded, his divine power causing his voice to fill the throne room.

All playfulness dropped from Maleficent's features, her back straightening just a little bit more as her red painted nail lifted from the flower petal. When she turned to face him he could tell she had seen the error of her ways and that the next response from her would be straight to the point. He was more of a benevolent God than mortals believed him to be, but Hades could be just as vengeful and stern as his brother - especially when someone was attempting to give him the runaround in his own realm.

She may be the Mistress of All Evil, but he was the Lord of the Underworld - and in his domain, he called the shots.

"I asked the Erinyes to grant me access."

Scoffing at the answer, Hades turned his gaze from Maleficent to the dark waters of the river Styx that flowed to his left. Of course she would enlist _their_ help to enter the Underworld. The Erinyes, or Furies as mortal men knew them, were the three Goddesses of Vengeance and were responsible for bringing strife against those who had wronged an individual. Maleficent would have used the fact that he betrayed her eons ago to make the request and since the Erinyes couldn't physically harm him—he was a god, after all—they would have viewed her entering the Underworld without his knowledge or consent the perfect form of retribution.

"I must admit it was a rather clever way to gain access," he mused before turning his attention back to the Dark Fairy. "Although annoying me can't be the only reason you have graced my realm with your dark presence."

Maleficent contemplated his statement with the slight tilting of her horned head. "While it is always fun to annoy you, Hades, you are correct—it's not the only reason I came here. I have a favor to ask of you."

" _Really_ , now?"

 _This was certainly interesting_. Even when they had been on speaking terms, the Dark Fairy had never allowed herself to be in his debt and the intriguing notion that she needed something desperately enough to do so now had Hades momentarily forgetting that he wanted her gone before Persephone found out she was in the Underworld. A wave of his hand had an ornate chair appearing behind him, complete with black cushions and the likeness of Cerebus' head at the end of both armrests. Sitting with a dramatic flourish of his black robes, he inclined his head towards her and smiled.

"Do continue."

"You see, there's two… pesky individuals I've had the unfortunate honor of interacting with for some years now," Maleficent continued, her left hand coming up to stroke the wings of the dragon figurine atop her staff. "You, of course, can understand the hardship that comes with dealing with such people."

Hades hummed knowingly. "Yes, pesky individuals can be _so_ draining when they persist at a cause that they can not possibly achieve. Why not handle them yourself, though? Surely theyare no match for the Mistress of All Evil."

Maleficent practically preened at his observation of her power and Hades grinned internally—she was walking perfectly into his trap.

"An unfortunate event occurred that rendered me unable to, which is why I'm here. I've become bored dealing with them and would like for you to make them... disappear, as it were."

"I'm flattered that you thought of me, but there isn't much I can do from my position down here," he replied with feigned sadness in his voice, as if he truly were disappointed that he couldn't help her.

It was a lie, of course. As a god, he wielded an enormous amount of power and had been known to change the course of events while never leaving his onyx throne, but he was testing the Dark Fairy. He wanted to see just how far Maleficent was willing to go. She still hated him, that much was clear with her being able to call upon the Erinyes and gain access to the Underworld, yet he was certain she would say or do anything to get what she wanted.

"Please," Maleficent scoffed, "Mortal men refuse to even whisper your name for fear of gaining your attention and avert their eyes when making sacrifices to you. Stories of your prowess in battle are still told around campfires and in war rooms, the fierce and unforgiving way you take to the field against your enemies legendary. I've heard of entire _armies_ who have quivered or fled at the mere sight of your black chariot upon the horizon, Hades. Despite being given the very depths of the world to rule, you are far more benevolent than any of your siblings and the riches you have amassed over countless eons exceed even Zeus' great wealth, as does your talent to rule. The fact that there is no disorder in your kingdom speaks to your ability to maintain control and you are far more clever and patient than Zeus ever could be. You are the Lord of the Underworld, Keeper of souls and the Ultimate Judge to all who walk the realms—there is no power greater than your own and nothing you can't accomplish."

The throne room fell into silence after Maleficent's speech, the only sound that of the five eternal rivers flowing around them as Hades studied the Dark Fairy intently, his fingers absently stroking the three-headed figurine on the right side of the chair. _And there it was—the true depth of how far she was willing to go._ She had never been one to stroke his substantial ego before their falling out yet here she was, doing that very thing and giving him the answer he needed.

"Well, when you put it like that," he said at length, giving her a disarming smile. "What is it you require of me, O' Mistress of All Evil?"

"It's a rather simple favor but one that only you can set into motion. I need you to open a portal to the Underworld."

Hades blinked in surprise at the Dark Fairy's words—of all the things she could have asked him, he hadn't _quite_ been expecting that.

"You want me to open a portal that gives access to the Underworld."

"Yes."

"You do realise I abhor living souls coming into my realm," he said seriously with a wave of his hand, indicating the room around them. "This is a place for the dead, not those who still breathe."

"Oh, I'm well aware of how much you hate it," Maleficent replied as her red lips pulled into the most evil smile the Lord of the Underworld had ever seen. "In fact, I'm counting on it to help me with my little… problem."

His fingers paused in their movement atop Cerebus' figurehead at the meaning behind her words. She was referring to the law he had put in place eons before to ensure a living person couldn't enter the Underworld and steal a loved one's soul, at least not without the gravest of consequences. It wasn't the most extravagant or difficult thing she could have asked him to do, but he had to give her points for creativity. The existence she wanted to bestow upon these individuals was the thing of nightmares, an act that would forever alter them physically and emotionally if not out right break them.

Misreading his reaction as excitement, Maleficent took a step towards him. "All you need to do is open a portal so the individuals who are pestering me can fall through and become residents in this… delightful kingdom."

"Is that all?" Hades drawled.

"A simple act for someone of your magnitude," the Dark Fairy responded with a wave of her hand, as if what she was asking was something he did every full moon.

"And what's in it for me?" he asked, head tilting in mock contemplation. The game had been fun in the beginning but she was beginning to bore him now, and it was time the charade ended.

"My undying gratitude, of course."

Hades tutted mockingly at the response. "Not good enough, Mal. You're asking for an _awfully_ big favor from me and I'm going to need something physical in return. Tit for tat, as the mortals say."

"Have we really sunk so low that we're quoting the mortal heathens now?" she quipped with a raised eyebrow. When he remained silent, she huffed in annoyance, the index finger of her right hand tapping the gnarled wood of her staff. "There is absolutely nothing I can give you that you don't already have or couldn't easily acquire yourself."

Leaning forward in the blackened chair, Hades grinned victoriously. " _Precisely_."

 _This_ was what he had been subtly working her toward since she mentioned needing a favor, the moment when the proverbial stick swept her knees out from under her and reminded the Dark Fairy of just who she was dealing with…

Maleficent's body began to shake as he reveled in his victory—the movement subtle at first but then becoming more obvious—and it took the Lord of the Underworld a long moment to realise it was because she was holding in laughter. He had just revealed that he had been stringing her along the whole time, that he knew from the beginning there was nothing she could give him to grant her favor, and _she was laughing_. Seemingly unable to contain herself any longer, Maleficent threw her head back and filled his throne room with a cackling laugh he hadn't heard in eons.

"What in the seven hells is so funny?" he snapped in annoyance, his right hand coming down onto the arm of the chair and causing the floor beneath them to tremble.

" _You_ are," Maleficent replied, ignoring his display of anger as her gaze found him once again. "Did you really think I came here a fool, Hades? I of all people know the games you like to play and walked willingly into your little trap."

Hades' jaw clenched at the revelation—he should have known better than to view Maleficent as simply another soul that was easy to trick. Even before she had fallen from the graces of the Sisters of Avalon, she had been cunning, her mind sharper than the fairies around her and an innate sense of how to use a person's personality for her own motives. But while he appreciated vile cleverness in all its forms, there was one thing he despised more than unwanted visitors in his realm and _that_ was being manipulated.

"You're playing a very dangerous game, Maleficent," he replied coldly while standing from his chair. With measured steps he closed the short distance between them until they were inches apart, the hem of his black robe mingling with her ruby trimmed dress. "You come into _my_ realm unannounced, give me the run around about why you're here, and then attempt to manipulate me? I've smited people for far less, _fairy_."

True to her defiant nature, Maleficent simply lifted her chin and smiled at him serenely.

"Except even as a God, you can't kill me."

"I don't have to kill you to make you suffer," he growled. "All I have to do is deny your request and let the prophecy run its course."

The high ground that had been alternating between the two of them since she appeared shifted a little more to his side when the smile faded from Maleficent's lips. She had clearly not been expecting him to know about _that_ little detail and Hades relished in the small victory.

"How do you know about the prophecy?"

Chuckling, Hades turned from her barely concealed expression of shock and made his way across the rounded floor. "I'm a _god_ —I know everything there is to know, even if I haven't stepped foot in the Upper World in centuries." Upon reaching the long and ornate table that sat to the left side of his throne room, he picked up a decanter of wine and poured himself a generous amount, humming an ancient melody as the dark red liquid filled the crystalline glass. Facing the Dark Fairy once again, he took a long sip and sighed as the bitter, fruity flavor slid down his throat.

"I'm well aware that the _pesky individuals_ you mentioned earlier are Princess Erin and Prince Liam of Misthaven, the children who are prophesied to be your undoing. I also know of the protection spell Regina cast that prevents you from harming them with your magic—an ingenious move on the former Evil Queen's part, I must say."

Recovered from her initial surprise of discovering he knew the real reason for her request, Maleficent began to slowly move towards him. "So you understand why I have to get them out of the way and why I can't do it myself."

"Oh, I understand completely," Hades said with a nod of his head, "But I make it a matter never to alter prophecies, particularly those set forth by the Mother Fairy."

Maleficent's eyes instantly flashed gold at one of her former Sister of Avalon's many titles. "What does _she_ have to do with this?" she seethed.

"Everything," he said, taking another sip of wine as the high ground moved closer to his side. "You know the laws of magic, Maleficent, particularly those of your kind. It always comes with a price and the prophecy was yours for unleashing _that_ unto the world. Did you really think it only came into being because of your little feud with the Savior and her Captain? The Mother Fairy wrote the prophecy the moment you landed in the world of Men—you were only made aware of it once the children who were a part of it were born."

Maleficent scoffed quietly at the mention of the deed that had earned her exile from Avalon. It was in actuality an event that even he found abhorrent, but he knew the fairy in front of him had justified her actions long ago based on his own.

"She never did like me."

"You were her most loved sister," Hades pointed out which earned him a death glare from the Dark Fairy.

"She always held me back, just as you are trying to do now."

Finishing the rest of the wine, Hades sat the glass back on the table without ever taking his eyes off her. "Why the rush, Maleficent? Is it because you can feel that time is running out?" When she remained silent he continued, a smile pulling at his lips as the high ground ceded more in his favor. "Your fairy blood is telling you that you don't have much longer before the prophecy is fulfilled, the very magic that governs your life force tensing in anticipation for the battle that will come. That's why you swallowed eons of animosity to come here and ask for my assistance because you knowthey will defeat you in the end. Light _always_ defeats the darkness."

"Not this time," Maleficent growled. "You _will_ open that portal, Hades, and those two blasted royals will remain forever trapped in this godforsaken section of hell!"

"Hell isn't the Underworld, darling," he casually corrected while turning his back to pour more wine. "And I don't have to do a damn thing I don't want to."

"Oh, but you will, because you _promised_ to."

Hades physically recoiled at the stressed word like someone had punched him. The hand that held the decanter jerked with the movement, causing the delicate crystal to hit an iron candlestick holder and smash into thousands of tiny pieces. As the red liquid spilled to the table and floor, he spun around to find the Dark Fairy smiling at him smugly from the center of the throne room.

"I did no such thing!"

"How short your memory runs," Maleficent taunted, her voice dripping with confidence. " _Whatever I can do, no matter the time or place, I will make this up to you. You have my_ _ **word**_ _._ "

Hades closed his eyes as Maleficent recited the words he had said so long ago on the darkened shores of Avalon. He hadn't thought about his word choice in that moment of desperation and had only wanted to spare her feelings as much as possible. In hindsight, he knew now there was no way he could have done that with what he revealed to her that night and it was a testament to how much she truly loathed him that she had held off on collecting from the promise for eons. It had been a foolish mistake, one Zeus was more likely to make than the ever careful Hades. A promise made by a God was an unbreakable oath, a sacred agreement that the divine being who gave it had no choice but to honor. There was a reason the Gods rarely gave them and yet at the height of his youth, he had not only given one to a fellow immortal but a fairy at that.

Zeus would never let him live this down if he ever found out.

"You have no choice but to honor my request."

Knowing the high ground had fully shifted back to Maleficent and that there was no way he could win it back, Hades reluctantly agreed as he opened his eyes.

"So it would seem."

Maleficent's red lips drew into a mocking pout that caused Hades to glower. "Don't be too upset, Hades. I'm only collecting on what was freely given to me."

"All I have to do is open the portal?"

"Open the portal and ensure that the two brats are the ones who fall into it and your promise to me will be fulfilled."

Everything in Hades that made him a benevolent god revolted at what she was asking him to do, his morality screaming at him to change her mind but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. Maleficent wanted to beat the prophecy and had made up her mind on how she was going to do it before she had even called upon the Erinyes. "I will need something that is linked to them in order to provide that assurance."

Black smoke encompassed Maleficent's left hand and when it cleared a long dagger rested in the Dark Fairy's palm, the purple colored blade covered in dried blood.

"Will the blood from one of them do?"

Without a word Hades flicked his wrist, translocating the blood stained dagger into his own hand. He recognized it instantly as a Wonderland blade, the unique essence that was Wonderland's magic pulsing through the stone and metal. "Yes. The twins share the same blood so it will ensure that both of them fall into the portal."

"Wonderful!" Maleficent exclaimed and bile rose sharply in Hades' throat at the absolute glee on her face. "You should open it in Camelot."

"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious. "I don't know much about the Savior or her Captain, but won't _they_ investigate a strange portal rather than their children? Or even Merlin?"

With a dismissive wave of her hand Maleficent said, "I've timed my request with Merlin's absence from Camelot to ensure that meddling wizard wasn't around. As for the other—Ingrid, despite her betrayal, ensured they wouldn't. The Savior underwent the sleeping curse from Medusa's Heart. There's no way she isn't experiencing nightmares and fluctuations of her magic from it, as I'm sure even you are aware of its after effects. The pirate will know this and will send his brats in their stead and unknowingly to their demise, which only makes my plan all the more sweeter."

There was a special place in his realm for people like the Dark Fairy and Hades truly loathed the fact he would never be able to toss her into it.

"You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"I simply refuse to let two mortals defeat me. You of all people should know that, Hades."

Oh, how he did know that. Maleficent had never been one to accept loss without retaliation—the evils of Mankind were proof enough of that.

"Very well, I'll open the portal in a few days."

Maleficent instantly shook her head. "No, you'll do it toni—"

"You do not get to choose when I fulfill my promise, _Maleficent_ ," Hades snarled, knowing without even having to look into a mirror that his eyes were flashing the electric blue color of his magic. "I said I would do it but first, I will see my wife back to the Upper World! It will be done by the end of the witching hour in two days time and not a moment before."

The Dark Fairy's eyes burned golden in response to his words yet she wisely remained silent after his outburst. She may hold the winning hand, but they were playing at his table. Despite the promise he had so foolishly given to her, he was still a god and she was nothing more than an immortal fairy.

"Fine," she said at length, the gold flecks of her inner dragon receding until only the natural blue of her eyes remained. "I have… _other_ plans that I can put into place in the meantime. It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Hades. We really should do it again sometime."

Growling in unrestrained hatred, Hades jerked his wrist towards Maleficent and in a cloud of electrical blue smoke, the thorn that had been in his side for the last twenty minutes returned to wherever she had come from. He would forever rue the day he had given her that promise, but at least he had bought himself a few days before he was forced to do the Dark Fairy's bidding. Just as he was about to toss the blood-stained dagger onto the table to be dealt with at a later time something on the pommel caught his eye. It was a family crest, one he hadn't seen in centuries but he recognized the heraldry immediately. How Maleficent hadn't noticed it was a mystery, especially considering how close the origin of the royal crest was linked to her. As he stared at the simplistic yet meaningful design carved into the stone pommel, a smile slowly spread across the God's face.

The Dark Fairy had unknowingly given him a way to ensure her plan would ultimately fail, and the high ground shifted back into his favor.

* * *

Maleficent laughed victoriously as she reappeared in her own throne room, the last image she had seen in the Underworld of an annoyed and defeated Hades filling her dark heart with absolute glee.

Her encounter with the God of the Dead had gone just as she expected it to, even down to Hades attempting to humiliate her by trapping her into saying there was nothing she could give him in return for her request. Before invoking the Erinyes' names, Maleficent had known exactly what his reaction would be every step of the way—the initial surprise, wanting to know how she got there, his response to her giving him the runaround, and how he wouldn't be able to resist the idea of _her_ coming to him for a favor. Their mutual history had taught her that while he would respect the power she wielded, in the end he would underestimate her just as he had always done. Eons may have passed since they laid eyes on each other but Maleficent still knew how Hades' mind worked, probably more so than the insipid goddess he had taken as a wife.

 _Not that Hades had been completely without surprises,_ she thought as she sat in her dark throne.

She hadn't expected him to know about the prophecy or the identity of the individuals she wanted brought to the Underworld. That had been a tactful error on her part, however—she should have taken into consideration before going that even as a god who ruled beneath the ground, Hades would have knowledge of the going ons in the Upper World. In the end, his knowledge of why she was making such a request hadn't mattered, not when she had his promise up her sleeve.

In his attempt to throw her off balance, Hades _had_ answered one of her most burning questions. She had always wondered who penned the prophecy, knowing the blind Seer that had brought it to her four months before the brat's birth had only been the messenger and not its author. Seers gave their prophecies by word of mouth and never wrote them down, always relying on mankind's ability to alter what they heard from one generation to the next in order to disguise the true nature of their warning. The fact it had been delivered on parchment with a magical enchantment made sense now that she knew the Mother Fairy was the one behind its creation. Maleficent's former Sister of Avalon was self-righteous enough to ensure that Maleficent was unable to destroy the physical reminder of her foretold demise, forcing her to look upon its words every day for the last twenty-eight years.

The joke was on the Mother Fairy, however, because Maleficent fully intended to see that the prophecy never came to pass.

"Diablo!"

No sooner had the name left her lips than a lone raven flew in through one of the high windows, its black wings bringing it to rest a few feet in front of her throne. She watched as the familiar black smoke engulfed the avian and in the mere span of a few heart beats, it dissipated to reveal a man in tattered black clothes. His skin was pale and eyes as black as midnight, the greasy black hair that hung over his face unable to hide the angry red scar that ran from his left temple down to the corner of his left lip.

"Did it go well, Mistress?"

"Beyond well," she answered with another victorious laugh. "Hades will be opening the portal in two days time."

A sinister smile pulled at Diablo's lips. "Excellent news, Mistress! I take it the dagger I used to stab the prince with came in handy?"

"Indeed. You shall be greatly rewarded for having the foresight not to wipe the meddling brat's blood from it, my dear Diablo."

Her loyal henchman fell into a deep bow at her words. "I live to only serve you. My only regret is that the prince's life won't end by my own hand."

"The fate we are condemning him and the princess to is far worse than a blade piercing his heart," she assured him as she leaned back in her throne. "But you shall watch while he falls into the portal, both as your reward and to assure me it happens. Are your men ready?"

"They are, Mistress."

"Then get them in position. The second part of my plan will be carried out the moment I receive word from you that they have gone to the Underworld."

With a nod of his head, Diablo quickly left, leaving her alone save for the giant hourglass that sat to the far right of the room. It had been created upon her return from the failed attack on the Charming's castle almost twenty-eight years ago, each piece of sand that fell into its lower compartment marking the passage of time until the protection spell Regina had cast on the Savior's children ran its course. She had so been looking forward to watching the last piece fall and finally be able to use her fae magic on the brats, though as she had told Diablo, what she had planned for them was far worse a fate.

With a flick of her wrist, she translocated the prophecy from its place of origin on her desk to her hand. As her eyes scanned the words she knew by memory, she thought of the one aspect from her conversation with Hades that had left her baffled. The Lord of the Underworld had mentioned that the prophecy was written when she was exiled from Avalon—yet that had been centuries ago. How was it that she and the Savior's children were linked lifetimes before even their father had come into existence? Hades had said the prophecy was her consequence for the action she had taken because of a broken heart, but surely her exile and the loss of her wings had been her penance. What was it about these two mere mortals that had their fate so closely intertwined with her own?

Perhaps there were more hidden passages in Morgana's journals that would answer her questions. Merlin had once been close to the Mother Fairy, and the wizard would have confided in her fellow exiled sister. It was something to do at a later time, she thought, as green fire erupted in her palm, consuming the prophecy until its ashes drifted to the stone floor below like falling snow.

For now, she had an invasion to plan.

* * *

 **So, this Hades is based more off his greek mythology roots than how he was in Once. I deliberately did that as a nod to one of my betas, always-been-a-pirate, who loves Hades and who I affectionately term the Greek Mythology Expert because of her vast amount of knowledge on the subject. :)**


	4. Chapter 3: Best Laid Plains

**Oh hey, look - I'M FINALLY POSTING SOMETHING. Thank you to everyone who has been super patient and supportive as I fell into one of the worst writing funks I've ever been in. After weeks of barely writing anything I banged out over 4K on this chapter over the weekend, so hopefully that means the muse is back to her fighting spirit! Many thank yous to sparantguard and always-been-a-pirate for beta reading this beast for me!  
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 **As always, enjoy, and reviews not only feed the muse but help a writer out when she's feeling down!**

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 **Chapter 3: Best Laid Plans**

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Twisting the ruby ring on his right hand that had once belonged to his father, Liam Jones stared at the royal coat of arms that marked his seat at the War Table, his eyes not really taking in the image of the anchor and seven buttercups permanently etched into the wooden surface of the table before him.

He was worried about his sister. Erin had been gone a week on what should have been a two-day retrieval, and the last contact they had from her or Eric was a messenger bird letting them know they had arrived safely in Narnia. It took two days of fair weather and calm seas to travel from Misthaven to the northern kingdom, so he hadn't thought much of it when they hadn't returned by nightfall on Friday. Worry had begun to set in, however, when Eric's ship still remained absent from the royal docks by the next night, and when he had gone out that morning to still find no sign of the _Mermaid's Mist_ ,dread had filled his stomach like a weighted ball. Even with taking into account rough winds and Narnia's well-known glacier-infested waters, they should have been home by yesterday at the latest.

No one else in the family aside from his mother seemed concerned with his twin sister having not returned yet, and he knew that was because there wasn't anything _really_ out of the ordinary with it. Erin frequently took side trips when she went on a retrieval, taking the opportunity to spread her wings and prolong her days outside the confinement of the castle's walls. His own parents did it from time to time when they visited neighboring kingdoms or other realms in his grandparent's place. This felt different though. There was no way his sister would willingly miss the ball designed to celebrate his upcoming wedding—despite her fervent hatred for such events—and with the nature of the man she had been sent to steal from, he had been unable to shake the feeling that something had happened to her...

"If you brood any louder they're going to hear your thoughts all the way in Agrabah."

Pulled from his internal deprecation, Liam turned his head to find the hazel eyes of his older brother watching him intently.

Henry sat directly to his left, the early afternoon sun streaming in from the windows of the War Room highlighting the auburn tint to his dark hair along with the slight stubble he had maintained since returning to Misthaven a fortnight ago. A large, leather bound book lay open on the table before him and the magical quill Henry used to record stories was poised over an unfinished page, the text ending abruptly from where he had stopped writing to address Liam. Normally, he would have met his brother's remark with a quip of his own but with dread still churning his stomach and thoughts of their sister in trouble, Liam simply huffed in annoyance.

"I'm not brooding."

Setting his magical quill down next to the book, Henry hummed in disagreement. "I've witnessed the Jones brooding look long before you were ever born, Liam. I know it when I see it. What's got you vexed?"

"Nothing," he murmured, knowing the second the word slipped past his lips that his brother wouldn't believe him.

"Well that's a lie, and I don't even need mom's superpower to know that," Henry replied on cue, his own brow furrowing as he studied his brother. "Does it have to do with grandma's over enthusiastic nature in regards to your wedding? I know from experience she can drive a man insane with all the details but—"

"No, it's not about the wedding," Liam interrupted, thankful nonetheless that his brother had kept his voice low enough so that the other occupants currently at the War Table didn't hear him. "I was just thinking about Erin."

Henry's gaze shifted from one of confusion to understanding at his words. " _Ah_. You're worried about her."

"Yeah, I take it you still aren't."

"No more than normal," Henry agreed with a shrug. "You know Erin likes to take her time with retrievals, especially if she can get a few extra days of sailing out of it."

He knew his brother had meant for his words to be calming but they had the opposite effect, and Liam ran a hand through his already disheveled hair in agitation. "You didn't see the report on this wizard, though. He's bad, Henry, probably one of the worst people we've dealt with in this regard. It was a two day retrieval—even with bad weather and Narnia's sea conditions, Erin should have been home yesterday."

"Retrievals don't always happen in the timeframe you allow for them to, you of all people know that. If this wizard is as bad as you say—"

"He is."

"—then Erin would have taken extra precautions," Henry finished, clearly ignoring his younger brother's insistent interrupting. "Even if _she_ didn't, Eric would. It could be something as simple as it took them longer than planned to locate the scepter or they had to do extra recon to even get _in_ the castle."

They were plausible reasons, ones Elizabeth had whispered to him as they laid in bed not two nights before when he first voiced his concern. He knew there was a whole host of them, but rationally thinking of why his sister still wasn't home was impossible when every worse case scenario was playing in his head on repeat. Swallowing against the tendrils of dread that were still trying to suffocate him, Liam spoke the one thought he had yet to even reveal to his fiancee or parents.

"What if Maleficent is involved?"

Henry leaned back in his chair at the question, a frown pulling at his lips as he clearly weighed the possibility of what Liam had just suggested.

"I'd never rule out Maleficent being involved with anything having to do with Erin—or you, for that matter—but we know for a fact she isn't, _if_ something has happened to Erin. She hasn't left her castle since regaining her strength back."

"She doesn't have to leave her castle to hurt us," Liam pointed out. "She masterminded the entire Ingrid debacle without physically getting involved until the very end."

Henry shook his head. "I'm not saying she _wouldn't_ , but Blue has been monitoring the entire Dark Forest for months now. We'd know if people were entering or exiting it, including her henchmen. You're just coming up with worse case scenarios to explain why she isn't home yet because you'd feel responsible if anything _did_ happen to her."

Before he could respond Henry shot him a knowing look and continued, his voice still low enough not to attract the attention of the rest of their family.

"Liam, please, don't even try to deny it. I've known you since you were five minutes old and can read you as easily as Killian can read mom. The retrieval or journey home is taking Erin longer than expected and because it was suppose to be you and not her, you're jumping to conclusions about what happened and taking it far more personally than you ever have before. Remember when you and Erin were eighteen and she retrieved that key that could turn any door into a portal to that untold story realm? She was gone an entire month when getting the damn thing only took two days and you never once worried about her like you are now."

Looking back down to his engraved coat of arms, Liam's jaw clenched at just how accurate his brother's words were. It _was_ supposed to be himretrieving the dangerous artifact from the mad wizard, but he'd pleaded with her to go in his stead when it became apparent he couldn't undertake it without the possibility of missing the ball that was to be thrown in his and Elizabeth's honor. _"You know Narnia better than me,"_ he had said to her, had even brought up the fact that she had knowledge of the layout of the castle from her previous retrieval there. He'd promised to get her out of wearing a fancy ball gown to his wedding and for what—all so he wouldn't miss a stupid ball where he was just going to shake hundreds of people's hands that he didn't even know?

"And what if it's not that the retrieval took longer or weather slowing them down? What if Maleficent found a way around Blue's detection or the psychotic wizard learned about their presence? What if she's been kidnapped, or worse, hurt somehow?"

From the corner of his eye Liam could see Henry's back straightening and his hands gripping the armrests of his chair tightly. A heavy second of silence fell between them before his brother spoke with an authoritative finality.

"Then Erin knows the proper action to take to notify us."

Glancing at the ruby ring on his right hand, Liam found that was one rational thought he couldn't argue with. The very scenarios he had presented to Henry and been worried about was the entire reason he had their father's ring and Erin the old pirate charms that once hung around his father's neck. Alone in another kingdom and at the mercy of a potential enemy, if Erin really had fallen into danger he knew with an unbreakable confidence that they would have received her necklace by now. She would have found a way to get it to them, just as she had six months ago when Diablo kidnapped her and their mother's past self in the middle of the night.

"I hadn't thought of that," he conceded before returning his gaze to his older sibling.

"I didn't think you had. I know you won't _completely_ let go of being worried until she walks through the door, but at least you don't look like you're about to punch someone."

Grimacing at just how much of his emotions had obviously been playing over his face while he thought of their sister, Liam reached for his goblet and took a large gulp, the rum-laced hot cocoa sliding smoothly down his throat.

"I'm still half tempted to say to hell with the ball and go find her myself."

Henry chuckled and gave him a knowing look. "You could. I'd be failing you as a brother, however, if I didn't remind you it wouldn't just be grandma's wrath you faced upon returning."

 _Another fine point made,_ Liam thought as he set his goblet back down. Erin would give him the verbal lashing of the century for skipping out on the ball that marked his upcoming wedding, particularly since the only reason she had gone to Narnia was to ensure he _didn't_ miss it. She'd also take offense to the idea that she needed rescuing when she hadn't given them any indication she was in trouble—no matter how well intentioned his actions might be. And Elizabeth… he didn't even want to think about what his future wife would do to him if he left her to socialize with foreign dignitaries by herself.

"Duly noted."

"I'm sure she's fine, Liam. Just Erin being Erin," Henry assured him as he leaned forward to pick up his magical quill. "I'll even make you a deal. If Erin and Eric aren't back by midnight, I'll personally get the _Jolly Roger_ ready and we'll set out to find her before the witching hour is over. Just… try not to worry unless we get a reason to. It makes this rare quiet moment we have a not-so quiet one, and we deserve the few we get."

He nodded. "I'll try, and Henry… thank you, for everything."

"Of course. What are big brothers for if not to keep you from jumping off a ledge?"

Liam smiled as Henry went back to writing, leaving him alone once again with his thoughts. He really didn't know what he would do without his older brother. Almost erasing the dread that had been eating at him for the past few days aside, Henry had been an invaluable help when it came to dealing with their overtly enthusiastic grandmother and her attempts to create the wedding of the century. He didn't care what flowers decorated the cathedral ceiling or about the lanterns Regina was gonna enchant to span the entire length of the aisle—all that mattered to him was saying his vows to Elizabeth in front of their friends and family.

He loved that his grandmother was embracing their long quiet moment, and Elizabeth certainly deserved all the pomp that came with a royal wedding, but there was only so much detail planning Liam himself could handle. Henry understood how he could feel both thankful and frustrated since he was the only other member of the family to _have_ a wedding on this scale. His parents had married in the Land Without Magic, a world where most people weren't royalty of some kind and even within the magical confines of Storybrooke, their wedding had been a small affair. Erin had refused their grandmother's attempt at throwing her a royal wedding by springing a surprise ceremony on the family when they went to visit Matthew's parents.

Since Henry had taken a long leave from Camelot's court for the wedding and returned home a fortnight ago, Liam finally had someone he could talk to about the matter. His brother had given him a shoulder to vent his frustrations on and reminded Liam—countless times, at that—why they were all putting up with the Queen of Misthaven's excitement. Thankfully, it was almost over. They would have have the ball tonight and in eighteen days, after a few small celebrations and a stag night he was very much looking forward to, he and Elizabeth would be married and he'd never have to hear wedding talk again.

 _Hopefully._

Reaching for his goblet of rum laced hot cocoa again, Liam's eyes flickered to the other occupants currently sitting around the War Table who had thankfully remained oblivious to his and Henry's conversation.

His grandparents, who sat to his right, were quietly conversing between themselves as his grandmother held up a piece of semi-rolled up parchment that looked like it could span the length of the _Jolly Roger's_ deck. Liam instantly recognized it as the guest list for his wedding and internally groaned—they couldn't _possibly_ be adding another head of state to the list, not after he'd spent four hours the other day with his father, Elizabeth, and Uncle Neal putting together the final seating arrangements for the reception ball. His father and Uncle Will were currently in a private conversation of their own as they sat counterclockwise from his grandparents, the two friends obviously catching up. With the Snow Queen gone and Maleficent not an active threat, his uncle had returned to ruling Wonderland full-time alongside Ana, and it unfortunately left little time for his father and godfather to simply share a glass—or bottle—of rum together.

"Sorry I'm late!"

Looking towards the doorway, Liam saw his mother entering the War Room at a dead run with a stack of kingdom reports and Hope's favorite stuffed animal clutched to her chest.

"You're not, actually," his grandfather said from his place at the table with a smile. "We're still waiting for Belle and Regina to arrive."

Reaching her designated seat between his grandmother and father, the Savior deposited the items in her arms onto the wooden surface with a sigh of relief. "Good! I thought for sure I was going to be."

"Why do you have Crocky?" he asked out of curiosity, knowing from experience that his niece almost never parted with the brightly colored animal.

"Oh, Hope gave him to me because she thought, and I quote, ' _You may need his assistance when dealing with the mean men who wear horns, grandma.'_ Although, to be fair, it did throw them off when I marched into the tavern with him in one hand and a sword in another."

Sitting, his mother picked up said stuffed animal from the table and unceremoniously dropped it in his father's lap before smiling sweetly. "He's missed you."

Liam had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the way his father's nose wrinkled while the pirate stared at the crocodile. It was a well-known fact amongst the family that his father _detested_ Hope's favorite toy, and they took every opportunity they could to remind him of its existence—none more so than his mother and Uncle Will.

Ignoring her son-in-law's discomfort, Snow asked, "How did the meeting with the Vikings go?"

"As well as you would imagine. I'm still going to talk to Elsa once she gets here about them causing havoc whenever they decide to make port in Misthaven."

"Wait, _Vikings_?" Will asked incredulously as he leaned his forearms on the table. "I didn't think those were Elsa's people."

"They weren't, but when Maleficent overtook their kingdom ten years ago, they sought refuge in Arendelle." Pausing in straightening the reports in front of her, Emma frowned as she looked at the White King of Wonderland. "I didn't think you and Ana were arriving until later today."

Shrugging, Will picked up his goblet. "Thought my godson could use all the support he could get with the torture fest that is happening tonight."

Snow scoffed at the former Knave. "A ball is _not_ torture, Will Scarlet."

"That depends on your definition of torture, Grandma," Henry quipped without looking up from his writing.

Liam wisely hid his smile behind his hand as his grandmother narrowed her eyes at her oldest grandchild, though he noted his father and Uncle Will unabashedly clicked their goblets together in silent agreement at Henry's remark. It was all in good fun, of course. Just as the family playfully ribbed his father for Crocky's existence, they took every chance to do the same with his grandmother's penchant for throwing elaborate celebrations.

Before Snow could address her grandson's playful retort, the clicking of a cane along the stone floor drew their attention to the doorway just as Rumple entered the War Room with Belle on his free arm.

"Aunt Belle!" Liam exclaimed in greeting, almost overturning his chair in his haste to stand so he could round the circular table and reach his godmother. Without hesitation the petite librarian let go of her husband's arm and rushed to meet him, her joyous laughter filling the cavernous room as they embraced in a tight hug.

Belle had spent most of her time since the defeat of the Snow Queen in Camelot, pouring through Arthur's extensive literature collection in the hopes of finding any additional information on the prophecy that spoke of him and Erin defeating Maleficent. He knew the research she was doing was vital for the inevitable battle, but it was strange not seeing her around the castle every day when she had been such a constant presence inside its walls his entire life. She had come home periodically, of course, to help Elizabeth with certain details concerning the wedding, but for a large chunk of the last six months she had been holed up in Camelot doing what she did best. Having her home, especially for such an important event, settled something within Liam that he hadn't even known was out of place until he saw her.

"I missed you," he murmured into her brunette locks, not caring how gruff his voice sounded or if anyone else heard it. He had always been close to his godmother, and the fact that she was becoming his mother-in-law in a little over a fortnight's time had only strengthened their bond. Belle's hold on him tightened briefly before she pulled away just enough to look up at him with a dazzling smile.

"I missed you too, and our afternoon chats over tea. The members of Arthur's court are delightful people, but most of their topics of conversation run rather dull."

Liam returned her smile with a small chuckle. For as long as he could remember, they would sit in the sunroom on the west side of the castle twice a week and discuss a litany of subjects that ranged from kingdom law to philosophy, all while drinking his aunt's favorite hot beverage. He couldn't remember why it had started, or precisely when it had, but it was a custom that had become ingrained in him as much as weekly sailing trips with his father had.

"As did I," he replied fondly, the sound of Regina translocating into the War Room reminding him this wasn't the time to catch up. They needed to discuss what, if anything, his aunt had found in her six month perusal of Camelot's library. Giving her a knowing look that said they would talk later, Liam leaned forward to place an affectionate kiss on his godmother's cheek and headed back to his seat.

"We seem to be missing people," Rumple observed with his normal snark while leading Belle toward her designated place at the table. "I hope we aren't waiting on them to begin."

Will huffed in annoyance around the rim of his goblet. "Why not? We waited on you to limp here."

Rumple stared at Liam's godfather with a murderous glare while Belle sighed in exasperation at her ex-husband's remark.

"They won't be attending," David quickly intervened, knowing as well as everyone else at the table that the former Dark One and the White King would bicker back and forth all afternoon if left unchecked. "Neal is overseeing the resigning of a trade agreement with Queen Tiana."

"Robin and Oliver have gone to Nottingham in David and Snow's stead for the crowning of its new king," Regina supplied as she took her seat with a flourish of her black dress. "I'll be joining them after we adjourn here."

Indicating the Queen of Arendellle's empty chair that sat between Belle and Regina with a nod of her head, Snow added, "Elsa would be here, but she had a meeting with her own council about preparations for when Maleficent strikes again."

"What about Erin and Eric?"

"They're still on a retrieval."

Liam's nails dug into the palm of his hand at his father's calm reply, but otherwise remained silent with his feelings on the matter. He also didn't miss the look Henry gave him as his older brother closed his book, reminding Liam without words of the deal they had struck and his promise to try not to worry.

"So there's been no change with Maleficent?" Belle asked as she sat in her designated seat to Henry's left. Rumple took his place behind his wife's chair, both hands resting atop the wooden cane in front of him.

Liam's mother shook her head. "Not since Blue reported that she's regained her strength."

"That was almost two months ago though—surely she would have made her move by now."

"She doesn't have to leave her castle to hurt us," Will reminded his ex-wife, perfectly echoing Liam's own words to Henry during their private conversation.

"No, she doesn't," the petite librarian conceded with a nod of her head, "But the protection spell on the children is expiring in a little over a month, and I don't see Maleficent _not_ being prepared for that."

His aunt had a point, Liam thought with a frown. They were indeed nearing the end of Regina's protection spell, and in fact that was one of the main reasons she had practically sequestered herself in Camelot for so long. In exactly thirty-seven days at the stroke of midnight on their twenty-eighth birthday, they would no longer be protected from Maleficent's magic. It wasn't like the former Evil Queen could recast the spell either. A protection spell against a specific person's magic, like any type of magic, had its limitations. It could only be done by a person once in their lifetime and no one else, including his mother or Rumple, could cast the same spell on someone who had already received protection.

They could give him and Erin protection spells against a variety of other villain's magic, but once Regina's ran out—the twenty-eight year expiration being another limitation of the spell—they could never again be protected against Maleficent's magic.

"I'm inclined to agree with both of you," Killian remarked, his fingers twirling around the tail of the stuffed crocodile that still lay in his lap. "It's actually something Swan and I were discussing a few nights ago. Maleficent knows the children will be vulnerable soon and on top of that, her need for revenge against Emma and I is still driving her. Make no mistake—she's planning something; her tactics have just changed."

"Whereas before she attacked us head on, she's now scheming for a way to hurt Liam and Erin indirectly," Snow discerned.

Killian nodded at his mother-in-law's assessment. "Precisely."

"But what could she be planning?" Liam asked, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the wooden table. "She's already done the puppet master routine."

Regina shook her head before he had even finished his sentence. "Maleficent is smart enough not to employ the same tactic twice."

"Except she has, dearie. If my memory serves me correctly, Ingrid wasn't the first time she had someone else do her dirty work."

"Ursula kidnapping the kids and taking them to Neverland was different," Emma interjected before taking a sip from her goblet. "We _knew_ she was behind that and she even gloated about it. Her masterminding Ingrid's release was done in the dark, and we never thought to suspect Maleficent being behind Ingrid's motives."

Nodding, Regina added, "Exactly. She knows we'd question her being involved if another villain attacked us right now."

"So I echo Liam's question—what could she be planning?" Will asked, his fingers tapping the side of his goblet.

"The fact is there are a vast amount of scenarios she could have up her sleeve," Henry said. "We have no idea what journals or artifacts she took from Morgana's library before we got there."

David sighed and rubbed at his temple in frustration. "And we can't attack her because we still have no way of defeating her ifwe were to reach her castle in one piece. I can't sacrifice my men to a lost cause like that."

What his grandfather didn't say was they _had_ a way to defeat her, they just didn't know what it meant. Maleficent's version of the prophecy had foretold that he and Erin would be her undoing. How they were suppose to do that, though, was a mystery to everyone sitting at the table, including the more knowledgeable magic users, Regina and Rumple. The prophecy itself certainly made no mention of how or when they were to defeat her, and they'd never found the Seer that delivered their version only weeks before his and Erin's birth. Even his Aunt Belle, who had scoured countless libraries across kingdoms and realms over the last twenty-seven years, had been unable to find references to the prophecy in any other text.

It was maddening sometimes knowing they were suppose to do something someday—that all their troubles with the Dark Fairy could finally come to an end if they only knew _what_ to do. It wasn't like Liam had any skills to do so anyway—Erin was the one with magic, not him. As was always the case when a War Council meeting took this turn, Liam swallowed against the bitter feeling that he was letting everyone down by not knowing how he and Erin were suppose to be responsible for Maleficent's demise.

"There has to be _something_ we can safely do before she tries to hurt the children again," Snow interjected, pulling Liam from another round of self-deprecation.

Regina's long ponytail swayed as she shook her head. "Short of finding out how Erin and Liam are supposed to defeat her, there's nothing we can do that would be permanent. We know she can't be killed, and she's too powerful for an entrapment spell of any kind. Not that we've ever gotten close enough to her to attempt it."

"My research didn't yield any new information either," Belle said with an apologetic glance around the table. "I combed through every book Arthur had and unfortunately, Blue was right. A fairy can't be killed, and the only way they _can_ die is to extinguish the magical light within their heart themselves, like Morgana did."

"Which Maleficent isn't going to do as long as me, Erin, Mom, and Dad are still breathing," Liam muttered, scratching at the scruff that covered his jaw in agitation.

"So our only option now is to find Avalon," David stated with a resignated sigh.

"Because _that's_ gone so well for us up to this point," Killian quipped with a raised eyebrow towards his father-in-law.

Perhaps even more frustrating to Liam than not knowing how they were supposed to defeat Maleficent was the fact that Avalon's location was unknown to _everyone_. Merlin and Rumple, the most powerful sorcerer of their time and a former Dark One who had both lived for centuries, didn't know where the mystical isle was. Blue and Tink had been born there along with every other fairy in existence and yet, they couldn't tell them where it was. They could remember growing up there and had described the landscape in explicit detail, but had no memory of what realm it resided in. Even Morgana, who had recorded everything she had ever learned or experienced, never once mentioned her homeland in any of her journals.

Most references to Avalon were steeped in false myths and fantastical stories about a woman in a lake, making it exceptionally hard to weed out any true facts concerning its location. They knew it wasn't hidden away somewhere in the depths of Misthaven or any of the other surrounding kingdoms. An extensive search of islands by the Royal Navy had also shown Avalon wasn't sitting in plain sight out on the open ocean. The only explanation was that the mystical isle was in another realm, and a few months ago they had attempted to find it by the simplest of realm traveling methods—a magic bean.

Only, it hadn't worked.

Instead of finding the lost island they had ended up in the great hall of Arthur's castle. It had been a bit of a shock—both to them and the people of Arthur's court who happened to be there at the time—and it wasn't something they could easily explain. By definition a magic bean _should_ have taken them to another realm, not a kingdom that was only a few days ride from their own and that still resided within the same realm. They attempted it a few more times but each time they ended up in the same spot—in Arthur's great hall, right in front of the statue that commemorated Camelot's first king who held a sheathed replica of Excalibur, the sword that had always denoted who ruled the shining kingdom.

"I take it the magic beans never worked?"

Will scoffed at his ex-wife's question. "Oh, the beans worked just fine when we weren't trying to get to Avalon. Killian and Liam nearly gave me a heart attack when they opened a portal in the middle of my Wonderland bedchamber."

Liam and his father shared an identical smirk across the table at the memory of his uncle's high pitched shouts as they appeared while the White King was having a bath. At Belle's confused look his mother explained, "Since we kept getting sent to Camelot we tested a few from the batch Anton gave us to make sure they hadn't been tampered with."

"David and Killian even took the _Jolly Roger_ back to Neverland as one of the tests," Snow added. "Every time we used one to reach another realm we were successful, _except_ when we were attempting to find Avalon. Those beans kept taking us to Camelot."

"That's to be expected."

Regina's head whipped towards Rumple so fast that Liam was surprised a resounding crack didn't echo in the War Room. "Is it? Last time I checked magic beans take you to _other_ realms, not another spot in the same one. _You_ of all people should know that," she all but snapped.

"They do," the former Dark One replied calmly, "Unless the realm you are trying to travel to is under a barrier spell."

The entire table stilled at Rumple's words. They were all aware of what a barrier spell was—Liam's mother and Regina had enacted that very thing over the entirety of Misthaven to keep Maleficent from physically getting close to him and Erin. The implications of one being on on the mystical island, however, sent a chill down Liam's spine. _If Avalon was under a barrier spell they'd never find it, and getting there to ask the Sisters of Avalon how to kill Maleficent was the only solid plan they had._

"I've never heard of a barrier spell being used on an entire _realm_ ," Emma stated and Regina nodded her head in agreement.

"Neither have I, dearie, but it perfectly explains why you were unable to reach Avalon with a magic bean."

Killian frowned. "I thought barrier spells only kept everyone whose magic wasn't part of the spell out but still let non-magical users through."

"That's the most commonly used form," Regina answered as she leaned back in her chair. "But there are barrier spells that work against even those without magic. They're rare, however, because the ingredients list for that type is almost impossible to complete and it takes a _very_ powerful person to cast it, let alone maintain it."

"Well, if we work under Rumple's theory someone very powerful managed it," Will muttered.

David shook his head. "Who could that be though, and _why_ would they do it?"

"For the same reason we did—to protect something," Rumple stated, his cane tapping along the stone floor as he slowly made his way around the table. "What little we do know of Avalon's history states that it disappeared from the world of men centuries ago at the same time the first king of Camelot ascended to the throne. Coincidentally, that was also when the Darkness began to manifest into a physical form which prompted Merlin to tether it to a human, thus creating the Dark One. Avalon was not only a great source of light magic but it was were all magic originated _from_. If a Dark One had obtained access to the island they would have become unstoppable, and might have even found a way to reverse the tethering spell Merlin placed upon the dagger."

"So someone cast a barrier spell to keep a long line of Dark Ones, yourself included, from stealing Avalon's magic," Will summarized with a raised eyebrow.

Coming to a stop between Snow and David's chairs, Rumple sighed. "In simplistic terms, yes."

"It would have to be the Sisters of Avalon who cast it," Regina mused as she twirled the end of her ponytail around her right index finger. "You have to be _inside_ the barrier when it's enacted, and on top of that they are the only ones powerful enough to maintain the complicated version of that spell for so long."

Henry shook his head. "That still doesn't explain why every time you used a bean in an attempt to find Avalon it took you to Camelot."

"That I may have an answer for," Belle said, reaching into her dress pocket and pulling out the little book she kept research notes in. "There was a book in Camelot on its history, and the historian who wrote it recounted the period of when Uther I became King of Camelot. He _also_ happened to mention the fact that shortly before the Darkness manifested physically, a large landmass that had always been off Camelot's Western coast mysteriously vanished overnight."

 _That_ got the attention of everyone at the table.

"Wait, are you saying Avalon once resided _within_ Camelot's borders?"

Looking up from her research notes Belle nodded at the Savior. "It would seem so. No location was given, not that it would help us if Avalon is protected by a barrier spell."

"Well that's one mystery solved. The magical beans couldn't take us to Avalon because the barrier spell prevented it, so they routed us to a place previously linked with it, right?" Liam asked, looking between his mother, Regina, and Rumple for confirmation on his rudimentary magical knowledge. All three nodded their heads.

Snow sighed in frustration, her ever present optimistim clearly taking a battering from all the dead ends they were running into. "How are we supposed to find Avalon, let alone _get_ there, if there is a barrier blocking our way?"

It was a valid question. There was a reason his mother and Regina had enacted one of their own over the kingdom, albeit of the less complicated variety. It automatically ensured that Maleficent couldn't step foot on Misthaven soil and if Rumple was right, the Sisters of Avalon had had a damn good reason to cast one over Avalon. The problem was there was no way around a barrier spell. It was so intricate that any magic user they _wanted_ to be able enter the barrier—like his Aunt Elsa, Erin, Merlin, and even the fairies—had to be present at the time of its casting. Ingrid had managed to bypass that clause because she and Elsa shared the same kind of magic and were related by blood. The only reason Maleficent had been able to break through the barrier six months ago was because...

Liam blinked in surprise as the thought crossed his mind, and he sucked in a surprised breath. "What if we were able to find something from Avalon that could get us through it?"

"You know there is no way—"

"But there _is_ a way," Liam said, cutting Regina off. "Maleficent did it."

Liam watched the former Evil Queen's eyes widened as the meaning behind his words sunk in. Six years ago, Maleficent had murdered Erin's husband, which had prompted his mother and Regina to cast the original barrier spell. Unbeknownst to them, however, after killing Matthew, the Dark Fairy had translocated inside the castle and hidden an enchanted object. It had made her magic part of the barrier spell and the reason she had been able to translocate inside it when she attacked six months prior.

"It could work," Rumple conceded with a nod of his head, "But finding an Avalonian artifact is going to be nearly impossible."

"What about Medusa's Heart?" David asked, turning his head to the right and directing the question at the former Dark One. "She was a Sister of Avalon and we still have possession of that."

"She enchanted it _after_ her exile from Avalon, as well as the one Selfless Devotion Bracelet we have. If I recall Medusa's history correctly, she was forced to leave the island a few centuries before the Darkness appeared, which means her magic wouldn't have been present at the time the barrier spell was cast."

Regina sighed heavily. "The fairies don't have possession of anything from their homeland either."

"Of course, because that would be too easy," Will grumbled before finishing off his wine and setting the goblet onto the table with a little more force than necessary.

"Perhaps there's something in Camelot," Belle suggested, laying down the quill she had borrowed from Henry to make notations in her book. "If we go by the historian's account, Avalon was physically linked to Camelot for centuries before it vanished. There hasto be _something_ there that was originally from the island we could use. I'll go back after the wedding and do some more research, even talk to Merlin once he returns from Atlantica."

"It's as good a plan as any we've had before," Killian said while stroking his slightly silver-tinged scruff. "Now we just need to figure out what Maleficent is planning and stop her."

David nodded. "We'll summon Blue back to the castle at the end of the week and see if she's learned anything new. Rumple—start looking into what we'll have to do for when Belle finds an Avalonian artifact, and help him once you return from Nottingham, Regina. If we have something that will get us through Avalon's barrier spell the last thing I want to do is waste time in figuring out _how_ to do so." Standing, David offered his hand to his wife and added, "If there's nothing more, I'll call the meeting to an end so everyone can start preparing for tonight's festivities."

Liam remained seated as the sound of chairs scraping along the stone floor filled the War Room, his fingers drumming anxiously atop the armrest of his own chair. His aunt mentioning that she would wait until after the wedding had unsettled him, and it had taken a few minutes of internally rolling the feeling around before he realised why. Finding Avalon and a way to defeat Maleficent was far more time sensitive than a wedding, even his own. He _wanted_ to marry Elizabeth, had for a number of years, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if the Dark Fairy did something before then, leaving them once again a step behind her simply because they waited until _after_ his wedding to start their next plan. It was more than that, though. His father had said something earlier in the meeting that lingered with Liam, pushing to the forefront a scenario he had naively never considered and that was now running non-stop through his mind.

Feeling the anxiety slowly grow the more he thought about it until it was almost choking him, Liam stood and quickly surveyed the room, his eyes almost instantly landing on the two people he had been searching for. His parents were conversing quietly by the War Room's large double doors, the kingdom reports his mother had brought in now in the crook of his father's left arm as Crocky's tail dangled from the Savior's right hand. He hated to interrupt them—particularly since it looked like his father was trying to sway his mother into an afternoon sailing trip before the ball—but he had to talk to them.

 _They'd understand, out of everyone, why he felt the need to propose what was eating away at him…_

"Liam?"

The sound of his name had Liam stopping his determined stride towards his parents mid-step, and he turned to find his godmother making her way towards him.

"Yes, Aunt Belle?"

Coming to a stop in front of him, the petite librarian smiled. "I was wondering if you'd partake in a little late afternoon tea with me before we have to get ready. Elizabeth has kept me up to date in her letters, but I feel there's _quite_ a bit I've missed having been in Camelot mostly for the last six months. Particularly when it comes to my goddaughter and the reason for her absence at the meeting today."

Taken aback slightly by the mention of his sister, Liam stared at his aunt like a fish out of water for a long second before the wheels clicked into place. A quick glance to the other side of the War Room showed Henry standing by the large map of Misthaven that took up a single wall, his older brother doing nothing to hide the fact he was carefully watching Liam and Belle's exchange. As the two men's eyes met Henry inclined his head towards Liam and raised an eyebrow.

Apparently in the timeframe it had taken Liam to sort out what was bothering him, his older brother had relayed the basics of their earlier conversation about Erin to Belle, and had enlisted his godmother to further calm his worry about their sister.

Cursing internally at Henry's loving yet underhanded tactic, Liam compartmentalized the anxiety brought on by the War Council meeting and turned his attention back to his aunt. He'd just have to find time tonight at the ball to talk with his parents about the course of action he was going to suggest to the family.

"I'd love to, Aunt Belle."

* * *

"Remind me again why we are sneaking into your home like a bunch of common criminals come to rob the place?"

Erin sighed heavily as she paused in climbing the thick piece of rope. "Because I'd rather not run into my grandmother until I'm in the ballroom."

From the rope dangling next to her own she could just make out Eric shaking his head through the darkness of twilight. "Do you really think she hasn't _already_ noticed you still aren't in the ballroom with the rest of the family?"

"There's a method to my madness," Erin panted, using the short break to catch her breath and readjust her hold. "Grandma is going to be too busy playing hostess to visiting kings and queens to notice exactly _when_ I arrive at the ball. If I appear and pretend like I've been dancing or chatting for awhile she won't know that I was really an hour late getting there, which saves me from getting a lecture on being prompt to family functions. Going into the castle the normal way raises the risk of the guards seeing me and informing Grandma of when they did, and that leaves no wiggle room for me to work with."

"So you're going to deliberately deceive your grandmother."

"My parents didn't raise a fool, D'Harper. If I can avoid her wrath I'm going to, even if it means climbing a bloody rope to my own bedchamber."

Chest heaving from his own exertive climb, Eric pointed out, "It's not your fault that we didn't get back before the ball started. No one could have predicted that ice storm we got caught in."

Erin shuddered at the memory. They were a few hours away from the border that divided Narnia and Misthaven when the storm had hit, the overcast clouds hiding what lurked within them even from the two experienced sailors. Hail as large as Eric's fist had assaulted them, forcing them to drop anchor and take shelter below deck to avoid serious injury. After that the freezing rain had come, and along with it a chilling wind that Erin could still feel the remnants of in her bones even as she hung in the cool spring air. Narnia's storms were known to last for days on end so they'd battled the latter weather conditions top side as they attempted to continue sailing. Even with their combined skills the storm had put them half a day behind schedule, leading to them not docking the _Mermaid's Mist_ until the ball had already been under way for nearly an hour.

"Doesn't matter," Erin murmured as she looked up at the night sky, her eyes instantly cataloging more than a dozen constellations. "You know how my grandmother gets with these balls, and she's been particularly tyrannical when it comes to this one because it's for Liam and Elizabeth."

"Point taken," Eric noted, exhaling a heavy breath through his mouth. "I do find it a bit concerning, however, that not one guard is alarmed by two people climbing a rope that leads to a Princess of Misthaven's bedchamber."

"That's because it's dark and the moon isn't on this side of the castle yet to illuminate anything." Wincing at the ache in her muscles she added, "Which is a security concern, now that you mention it. Probably need to broach that subject with Grandpa at some point."

Eric grunted in response as they resumed climbing, a companionable silence descending between them while they concentrated on putting one hand before the other and not losing their grip.

It probably was one of her more crazier ideas, but it wasn't like they had a lot of options to choose from that would get them into the castle without being seen. Translocating them inside had been out of the question—she'd attempted it on one of the barrels from Eric's ship as they docked and had only managed to make half of it disappear. Bribing the guards wouldn't work as Erin had learned when she was a teenager, and she couldn't bring herself to knock them out with poppy powder considering they were guarding _her_ family from harm. Not that they had access to poppy powder. There was also irony in the fact that she could sneak into the heavily fortified castle of a mad wizard yet doing so to her own home was impossible—clearly villains needed to take notes from how the King's Guard protected the Charming-Jones family.

The only covert way into the castle was to throw grappling hooks at the balcony attached to her bedchamber and climb. They'd managed to do it without much hassle at least, though it had required them to skirt the outer perimeter of the castle and pick their way over the rock foundation that the castle sat on to reach the area of the family wing. On top of being slightly crazy, it was exhausting. Every muscle in Erin's body was screaming from the exertive climb, particularly her arms, and sweat poured down her face and back despite the cool temperature. She didn't even need a light source to know Eric was struggling with the physical climb as well, if his grunts and low curses were any indication.

Reaching the balcony, they carefully gripped the stone railing and hoisted themselves up and over the structure, their presence marked by nothing more than the whisper of leather boots hitting stone. Erin let out a relieved sigh as she stood to her full height and stretched her aching muscles. It wasn't the most ideal way to come home, but she'd take the soreness tomorrow over having to endure a lecture from her grandmother any day. Together they yanked the grappling hooks from where they had caught on the bottom lip of the railing and quickly reeled the thick sailing ropes up, leaving no trace of their clandestine route into the palace.

Tossing the rolled up bundle of rope and grappling hook to the side of the balcony to be dealt with in the morning, Erin paused as she noticed Eric smiling at her.

"What?" she asked defensively, hands going to her hips the wider his smile became.

Eric shook his head. "'Tis nothing, Jones. Just thinking about how you're the only person I know who exits a balcony without the use of a rope yet requires it to get _on_ one."

Unable to stop the smile that tugged at her own lips, Erin rolled her eyes as she playfully shoved him towards the door that lead to her bedchamber. "Yes, well, I'm one of a kind."

She told herself it was a figment of the wind that made her hear a murmured, _"Don't I know it,"_ while following him. It was the kind of affectionate remark Eric would make—Gods knew he had done it countless times over the years—but the warmth that spread through her chest at the words was a new development she was steadfastly refusing to acknowledge, especially when she had a ball to get ready for.

They had barely taken a few steps into her bedchamber when Eric came to an abrupt stop, causing Erin to slam into the solid mass of his back with an ungraceful _oompfh!_ Instinctively grabbing his waist to steady herself, Erin glared at the back of his dark head.

"Eric! Why did you—"

The soft clearing of a throat had Erin's question dying instantly on her lips and her entire body going still. _Hades be damned… this wasn't going to end well for her._ Tightening her grip on Eric's waist, Erin peered around his broad form while praying to every deity she knew that she wouldn't find the one woman she had been attempting to avoid.

The gods were clearly not listening tonight, at least to her prayers.

The Queen of Misthaven stood calmly in the middle of Erin's bedchamber, dressed in an off-the-shoulder cream colored gown with long belled sleeves and a full skirt that just barely brushed the stone floor below her. The white gemstones sewn into the lace that trimmed her neckline and the edges of her billowing sleeves sparkled in the firelight from the lit fireplace, reminding Erin of a star as it winked into view in the night sky. Her grandmother's slightly graying hair was pulled into a simple yet elegant bun, and her jewelry simplistic for the station she held—a pair of small, dangling pearl earrings, her peridot wedding ring, and a glittering silver tiara. Snow White held her hands clasped in front of her, looking as unamused as she had when she found a four year old Erin digging for buried treasure in her rose bushes.

" _Bloody hell."_

"Indeed," Snow dryly replied to her granddaughter's expletive.

Shaking off the shock of having been caught, Erin quickly dropped her hands from Eric's waist and moved to stand beside him. "I thought you'd be at the ball?"

"Well, I was," her grandmother said, gesturing to the elegant dress she wore, "And was quite enjoying myself when Smee informed me that someone that looked _suspiciously_ like my granddaughter and a certain young pirate had arrived at the royal docks."

Erin groaned—of all the precautions she had taken to ensure no one saw them, she had never once thought to have Eric dock his ship somewhere were it couldn't be seen. Normally it wouldn't have mattered but she should have known that with the ball happening Smee, the Royal Harbormaster, would be keeping an extra eye on who came in to the royal docks.

"Of course, I was expecting you to walk through the door, not scale the castle wall like an invader. Tell me, Captain D'Harper, why the odd route?"

Erin felt Eric stiffen momentarily next to her as the question was directed at him and not her. She wouldn't blame him one bit if he spilled her entire half-brained idea to the woman standing before them. Her grandmother was an imposing figure on a normal day, and was even more so when she looked and sounded like a queen who was interrogating a prisoner. A quick glance out of the corner of her eye told her the former pirate wasn't going to take that route, however.

"We wanted to enjoy the scenery," he remarked with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Snow gave him a look that clearly said she didn't believe him. "I'm sure it was the _scenery_ that had you climbing hundreds of feet in the air."

Erin didn't miss the subtle way her grandmother's eyes flickered to her as she spoke.

"Can I assume you will be joining us for the ball, Captain?"

Eric nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"Then I suggest you get ready before you miss all the dancing."

Clearly knowing a polite dismissal when he heard one, Eric bowed to her grandmother and turned to Erin. "See you later, Jones," he whispered before making his way across her bedchamber with purposeful but even strides. Erin waited until the door had closed behind him to sigh heavily.

"Is this where I get a lecture?"

"You should," Snow commented as she walked towards Erin's vanity, "But not about being tardy. I'd like to think I know my granddaughter well enough to know that if she had a choice, she wouldn't be late to the ball celebrating her brother's upcoming wedding."

 _That_ took Erin by surprise. "No… no, of course I wouldn't be."

Snow nodded, her fingers lightly grazing the handle of Erin's hairbrush and the assorted hair ribbons haphazardly piled on the vanity's tabletop. "I take it the retrieval was a success?"

"It was. It took longer than we were expecting, but we were able to acquire the scepter without much incident." She'd leave the tale of how her and Eric managed to escape the mad sorcerer for a later time. "We left it in the safe aboard Eric's ship."

"Didn't want to risk dropping it on your little expedition up the castle wall?" Snow inquired, looking at her granddaughter with a raised eyebrow. "I mean really, Erin. What in Zeus' realm possessed you to take _that_ route?"

Knowing she wasn't going to be able to get away with a sarcastic quip like Eric had, Erin ran a hand through her wind blown hair. "I was… well, I was hoping to avoid running into you until I was already at the ball."

"Because you were expecting me to lecture you about being prompt to family functions."

At Erin's nod, Snow sighed and pulled the vanity chair out, the gemstones on her dress twinkling even more as she sat down. "I can't say I _wouldn't_ have. I know I've been a little over bearing—" With Erin's raised eyebrow the Queen of Misthaven chuckled. "Fine, _majorly_ over bearing, but I've just wanted this experience for Liam and Elizabeth to be perfect. Despite us preparing for Maleficent's next attack, this has been the longest quiet moment we've had in four years."

Moving so that she was kneeling in front of her grandmother, Erin smiled at the woman who had taught her how to be an independent woman as much as her own mother had.

"We know that, and although none of us say it, we're grateful that you took the reins and have made the most of this quiet moment. Liam and Elizabeth _deserve_ it. You've become a bit of a control freak when it comes to the wedding festivities though, Grandma. I love you, but can you blame me for wanting to avoid a lecture and thinking the best way to do that was to climb a bloody wall?"

"No, I can't," Snow agreed with a shake of her head, "But that also doesn't mean you should have. Not that I'm surprised you did—you do act before thinking sometimes, like your mother."

Warmth spread through Erin's chest as her grandmother reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Does this mean I've avoided a lecture full-stop?"

"Hardly," her grandmother teased as they both stood from their respective positions. "It just means it's going to wait until morning."

"Let it never be said that anything, even disciplining a grandchild for having a crazy idea, gets in the way of a ball Snow White has planned," Erin chuckled.

"Keep it up and I'm going to give you the same punishment I gave Henry for his little remark earlier today."

"What remark?"

Snow waved the question away with a laugh. "I'll tell you later. We have to fill you in on what we discussed at the War Council anyway. Right _now_ , however, we have to get you ready. I presume you're going to need a bath after being on a ship for almost a week and rope climbing?"

"Most definitely," Erin agreed, already working on the buttons of her vest. "I'll draw one magically if you want to get everything ready for me."

With her grandmother's nod Erin flicked her wrist at the open space between her bed and the doorway leading to the balcony, a small part of her sighing in relief when she felt the familiar surge of her magic through her veins. In a swirl of white smoke the large bathtub from her side room appeared, tendrils of steam rising from the hot water that magically filled it almost to the brim. She quickly stripped off her sweat-soaked travel clothes and threw them in a pile next to her vanity, only half paying attention as her grandmother moved towards the wardrobe that sat on the opposite side of the room, the other woman humming an upbeat melody as she went.

Sinking into the hot water with an appreciative sigh, Erin turned her head just in time to see her grandmother pulling a dress from the wardrobe that she was almost positive hadn't been there when she left to go on the retrieval. Eyeing the green fabric in disdain, she reached for the bar of lavender-scented soap.

Liam better be glad she loved him.

* * *

 **Snow's dress was modeled off the one she wore for the Camelot ball, if you needed a visual reference. Next chapter - the ball!**


	5. Chapter 4: Like Mother, Like Son

**After a bit of a writer's funk and a finicky muse, the next chapter is here! Thank you to everyone who has patiently been waiting on an update on whichever works of mine you're fallowing.**

 **As always, enjoy, and reviews feed the muse!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Like Mother, Like Son**

* * *

"Red or blue?"

"Blue."

"Swan, you've not even looked at them!"

Sticking her head around the side of the folding screen, Emma found her husband standing at the foot of their large four poster bed. He was dressed in his formal leather pants and a white shirt that he hadn't bothered buttoning yet, giving her an unobstructed view of the dark hair that covered his toned chest as he held up the vests in question for her perusal.

"Blue," she stated again, her breath catching slightly on the word as the maid behind the folding screen with her began to lace up Emma's gown.

Killian eyed the midnight blue vest dangling from his hook with a questioning eyebrow raise. "You don't think it's too… royal?"

Chuckling, Emma straightened to make the maid's job easier. "I know you hate to use the title, but you technically _are_ a prince with our marriage, Killian."

" _Swan._ "

She didn't even have to see him to know Killian was giving her an unamused look. He had refused to use the title from the moment they had reestablished Misthaven twenty-nine years ago, and had even threatened to gut a Duke from a neighboring kingdom once for addressing him as 'Prince Killian'. There was an irony to the fact that Emma had accepted she was a princess but her husband staunchly refused to embrace the royal title he'd earned through their marriage.

"It's the truth. Besides, the blue one compliments my dress."

"The dress you've refused to let me see, you mean?"

Running her hands along the scarlet fabric that covered her body, Emma teased, "Can't a wife surprise her husband?"

Killian's deep chuckle reached her ears along with the unmistakable sound of rustling fabric, indicating he'd given in and shrugged on the vest. "Of course you can, love. I was merely pointing out—"

A sudden and harsh knock on the door that separated the sitting room from their bedroom caused Emma to frown. No one in their family would need to see them as they were all preparing for Liam and Elizabeth's ball. In fact, the entire castle staff were either going over the fine details of the ballroom, in the kitchens finishing up the night's feast, or helping the visiting royals get ready. Who in the world could be knocking on their bedroom door for an audience at a time like this?

"Killian?"

"It's only Jameson, love. I asked him to bring me the latest naval report before the festivities began. I'll be back shortly."

It wasn't a lie, but Emma's superpower tingled enough to let her know her husband wasn't telling the whole truth. Peeking around the folding screen, she watched as Killian opened the door and slipped into their sitting room, giving her the briefest glance of Jameson standing on the other side before Killian quickly shut the door behind him. _That was odd._ While Jameson, a former member of Killian's crew, did courier the naval reports between Killian and the Commodores, it was a strange request for her husband to make right before a ball. Particularly one celebrating the upcoming wedding of their son and future daughter-in-law. Now that she thought about it, he _had_ been acting strange for the past few days—insisting he be the one to answer when someone knocked, taking meetings with Smee at odd hours, and there was the piece of parchment that he'd quickly shoved into his desk drawer when she entered his study two days ago.

No, her husband was planning something, she just wasn't sure what it could be. Was he going to surprise Liam and Elizabeth with something at the ball? Or had he made another crazy, drunken bet with her father that she nor her mother knew about? He _had_ been talking about getting in touch with Maya and having a coat similar to his own made for Erin since their daughter had such a fondness for it...

"All done, your Highness."

Pulled from her internal musing of trying to figure out what her husband might be planning, Emma realized her gown was fully laced and she turned to give the maid a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Mary. I can handle the rest if you want to freshen up before the ball."

With a low curtsey Mary left, and Emma waited until she heard the bedroom door close once again before stepping from behind the folding screen. She could hear the sound of Killian's accented voice—she couldn't make out exactly what he was saying from where she stood—but Emma made no move towards the wooden door. Eavesdropping on each other's conversation was not how their marriage worked. He would tell her what he was doing in his own time, especially if it involved one or more of their children. Instead, she made her way to the full length mirror that sat in the left corner of the room to give herself a once over before Killian came back into the room.

Her gown was sleeveless and A-line cut, a detail she had fought tooth and nail with the royal seamstress on since it ensured the most comfort while still being formal enough for a ball. The modestly shaped sweetheart bodice fit her like a glove and the sheer fabric in the same scarlet color as the rest of the dress extended up past her breasts, creating a delicate scooped neckline befitting a princess. The lower part of the gown was fitted at her waist but flared outward slightly as it fell to the floor like the bud of a tulip, and the back of it spread out behind her to a moderately length train. It was long enough to be regal, but short enough so she wasn't fighting with it all night. Hundreds of rubies and diamonds were sewn into the fabric, giving the otherwise simple gown a brilliant sparkle with every move she made. As she always did when it came to these types of occasions, she'd kept her hair and accessories simple. Her slightly graying locks were pulled into a low ponytail, and aside from her engagement and wedding ring, the only other piece of jewelry she wore was a diamond bracelet on her right wrist.

There were many facets of being a princess that Emma had gotten use to over the last twenty-nine years, but the one thing she had never become accustomed to was wearing a ball gown. She found them an annoying inconvenience, an opinion that hadn't changed since the first time she had been magicked into one. The skirts were always cumbersome, the corsets that were a required undergarment cut into her ability to breath, and there was really no sensible place to put a weapon while wearing one. Emma had to admit she liked being in this one, though that was more than likely because she'd been adamant about certain details rather than letting the seamstress have final say as was normally the case.

" _Bloody hell."_

Turning from the full length mirror at the sound of Killian's voice, she saw him standing in the middle of their bedroom, his eyes slowly taking her in from top to bottom. It wasn't how she had planned to reveal her gown, but the slack jawed expression on her husband's face still filled her with feminine pride.

"I take it you like the dress?" she asked while moving towards where he seemed rooted to the stone floor.

"Aye," he breathed, his hand coming up to run across the rubies and diamonds on her bodice with the back of his fingers once she reached him. "Swan, you look—"

"I know." She smiled as the memory of the first time they had ever said that phrase to one another flashed through her mind. "I figured red was a good color choice because it's your favorite."

"Indeed, though I must admit it looks _far_ better on you than it ever did me."

Emma hummed thoughtfully, letting her own gaze take in the vest he wore. The midnight blue fabric hugged his toned torso in all the right places, accentuating his broad shoulders and trim waist while bringing out the natural blue of his eyes. Tracing the silver embroidery that had been carefully stitched into the fine fabric with her fingers, she marveled at how even that detail complimented the gray streaks in his dark hair before resting her hands on his hips.

"You're wearing that blue awfully well though, Captain."

"I'll keep that in mind for when I need new vests," he said, giving her one of those devastating smirks that still made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

"Anything amiss in the report Jameson brought to you?"

Killian didn't respond at first, his blue eyes meeting her green ones in a look that she knew after almost three decades together meant he was studying her. Only a few silent heart beats passed between them before he chuckled. "You know there was no report."

"I do have that _little_ superpower the kids found annoying when they were growing up," she teased with a smirk of her own. "And I know my husband fairly well."

"Aye, that you do. Truthfully, I wasn't even trying to circumvent your superpower, love. I was only hoping to throw you off long enough so I could acquire the item from Jameson without incident."

Emma followed Killian's gaze when it dropped at the end of his sentence, and she blinked in surprise. There, no bigger than the width of her palm and resting in his now outstretched hand, was a small wooden box.

"What's that?"

"Can't a husband surprise his wife?"

She shot him a knowing look for using the same phrase she had said to him when he mentioned her insistence on keeping her dress a secret. For a man who spent centuries as a ruthless pirate, Killian Jones was by far one of the most romantic men to ever walk any realm. Gently taking the box from him, she flipped the golden latch and opened the lid to reveal a pair of swan shaped, diamond stud earrings nestled on a black velvet cushion.

"Oh, _Killian_!"

"I know tonight is about celebrating Liam and Elizabeth, but I thought the mother of the future groom deserved something to mark the occasion," he murmured.

Smiling, because _of course_ her husband would think to get her something so she could always remember their son's special night, Emma ran the tip of her index finger over one of the earrings.

"They're beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you are," he replied, lifting her chin to give her a chaste kiss. A wave of contentment warmed her from the inside out, that feeling of utter happiness she never tired of seeping into her very bones until she felt like she was shining from it. It wasn't about the gift itself—Emma didn't need diamonds or lavish tokens to be happy—it was the fact he had done it simply because he _wanted_ to. She'd overcome a lot of her walls in their time together, but it still shocked the little girl who had never been given anything that still resided deep within her every time he did something like this.

Placing one last kiss and a whispered, _"Thank you,"_ to his cheek, Emma quickly slipped the earrings on and moved to her vanity. _They aren't just beautiful—they are absolutely stunning_ , she thought as she admired them in the oval mirror that was attached to the antique white table. The diamonds themselves were exquisite, their brilliance dazzling even in the dimly lit room, but it was the craftsmanship behind their cut that really took her breath away. Everything from the graceful curve of the swan's head to the tip of its wing was precise and artfully crafted—not that she would have expected anything less from a gift her husband had commissioned.

"I _knew_ you were up to something," she said, chuckling at her husband's reflection in the mirror before storing the small wooden box in the top drawer of her vanity.

"Yet you couldn't tell when my heart was missing, could you?"

Emma's breath caught at the unexpected and harshly spat words. _Where had that come from, and why would he say such a thing after giving her a beautiful gift? And on tonight of all nights?_ Looking over her shoulder, she watched Killian walk calmly across their room to retrieve his formal greatcoat from the wardrobe. She could barely make out through the pounding in her ears that he was still talking to her as he did—something about a hilarious conversation he had with her father earlier in the day—but she couldn't process the story, not when his bitter words were playing on a loop in her head. The worst part was that he was acting like the entire thing had never happened.

Just as she started to ask him to repeat what he had said, the realization of what had happened— _again_ —hit Emma like a magical punch to the stomach.

Swallowing against the familiar panic that tried to choke her, she quickly turned back towards her vanity before Killian could notice something was wrong. _She should have known_. With all the times this had happened over the last four months, she should have known what she heard wasn't real. More than that, she should have known _Killian_ wouldn't say that. In the almost thirty years since it happened, Killian had never _once_ blamed her for not knowing that Rumple had taken his heart.

"Swan?"

Glancing up, she was surprised to see Killian standing slightly behind her in the reflection of her large vanity mirror. She'd been so consumed with berating herself for falling for the trick again that she hadn't realized he'd donned his formal greatcoat and made his way back over to her. Even with her mind still muddled around what was real and what wasn't, she didn't miss how handsome he looked in his full attire for the ball. The quilted black fabric that stretched over his broad shoulders gave him a softer and in her opinion—though she'd never say it out loud to him—a more princely look, especially when it was paired with a vest that complimented his dark looks.

"Hm?"

"I asked if you were alright," he repeated, his brow furrowing in concern while his hand gently caressed the exposed skin of her upper right arm. "You didn't comment on what your father said, and I've called your name at least three times."

"Sorry, my mind is having trouble concentrating on any one thing tonight," she replied, the lie tasting like ash in her mouth.

 _God, she hated this._ Not only was she being robbed of quiet moments, but hearing things that weren't really said had also caused her to lie more to her husband in the last four months than she ever had in their almost thirty years of marriage. Giving herself a good mental shake, Emma reached for the khol they shared and leaning towards the mirror, ran the the stick beneath her lower waterline. She didn't _need_ to freshen her makeup, but it kept her hands busy and gave her something to focus on other than the fear that had started to settle in the pit of her stomach again.

Once she was finished and had straightened, Killian wrapped his arms around her until she was completely enveloped by him. "Are you still worried about Erin?"

"I am, but not nearly as much as Liam is." _At least she could say_ _ **one**_ _thing that wasn't a complete and utter lie._ Leaning her back against his hard body, she let his warmth seep into her and allowed it, along with the safety of his arms, to chase away the lingering fear brought on by the realization of what had happened. _Whatever was happening to her couldn't touch her with him here,_ she told herself—or at least she hoped. Feeling his arms tighten around her, she found his piercing and still concerned gaze in the mirror.

"You sure you're okay, love?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The truth was she wasn't fine, and hadn't been in months. Between the nightmares and hearing people say things, Emma was slowly losing her mind but she couldn't tell Killian that. "It's just lack of sleep catching up with me. I've clearly not had enough hot cocoa for my higher brain functions to still be operating this late in the day."

She didn't miss the knowing flash in Killian's eyes at the mention of her sleepless nights before he dipped his head to press a light kiss to her right shoulder. To anyone looking on it would have seemed like a romantic gesture, a lover bestowing a physical token of his affections, yet Emma knew he had done it to conceal the uncontrollable clenching of his jaw. Her eyes slammed shut as guilt washed over her like a tidal wave. He knew something was wrong. He didn't know about the vivid nightmares or how she had begun hearing snatches of conversation that weren't real, but he knew something was causing her to have sleepless nights and that she wasn't telling him about it.

 _If only she could._

"Mom, Dad?"

At the sound of Liam's panicked voice coming from their sitting room, Emma turned her head and softly kissed Killian's jaw. She forced herself to focus on the familiar scratch of his facial hair against her lips rather than the unshed tears of frustration that were rapidly building behind her closed eyes. "Go and make sure your son isn't freaking out about tonight. I'll be there in a few seconds."

She felt Killian war with the decision to leave, the struggle to push her or drop the subject evident in the way his jaw ticked beneath her lips. It wasn't the first time she had sensed her husband's inner turmoil, and if the last six months were any indication, it wouldn't be the last. In the end he silently relented, and with a comforting squeeze of his arms he moved to see what Liam wanted.

As soon as Killian had left their bedroom Emma braced her hands on the edge of the vanity table and took an unsteady breath. _She could do this._ How often since a ten-year-old Henry had found her had she battled one unexplainable evil after another? The decks had been stacked against her in those cases, and she had always won in the end. She'd fought off whatever was happening to her for this long, and she would continue to do it—especially for tonight. No nightmares, hearing things that weren't really said, or her failing magic were going to get in the way of her being happy for her son and future daughter-in-law. Tonight was a quiet moment, and Emma Jones would be damned if _anything_ ruined it.

She pointedly ignored the shaking of her right hand as she reached for her tiara.

* * *

Standing off to the side of the busy dance floor in a less-populated corner, Liam took a large gulp of wine as he surveyed the ongoing festivities around him.

The center of the ballroom was filled with dancing couples, the flowing dresses a brightly colored sea of movement atop the stationary gold and black checkered floor. Those not partaking of the instrumental music encircled the grand room and mingled amongst one another, the hundreds of individual conversations creating a pleasant hum beneath the ongoing notes of the waltz. Elaborate jewels hung from the necks and ears of the women, sparkling with every movement they made, while the men's belt buckles and sword pommels were polished until one could see their reflection in them. An army of butlers maneuvered between the conversing guests, the Charming coat of arms emblazoned on their formal dinner jackets and trays of goblets filled with wine balanced on their gloved hands.

Royalty and important commoners alike packed the room, with fifty different kingdoms and at least five realms represented amongst the guests. He didn't know all of them—not even half, really, even with him being a prince himself—but he easily found those he did know amidst the crowd of unfamiliar faces.

Ana and Liam's father, along with his mother and Uncle Will, were twirling around the dance floor, the respective couples having switched partners for the lively waltz currently filling the ballroom. His Aunt Elsa stood by the long buffet table on the left side of the room with her sister, Anna, who was in a very animated conversation with a man Liam thought might be the Duke of the Shivering Isles. Rumple and Belle were conversing with King Arthur and Queen Guinevere in their own unpopulated corner, his aunt and her second husband no doubt using the fact that Arthur was here to get a jump start on finding a long-lost Avalonian artifact. Henry and his wife, Alice, sat in plush chairs next to the double doors that led to the courtyard and were affectionately watching their sons, Bae and Jefferson, take turns dancing with an ecstatic Hope.

His grandfather was slowly making his way around the room as one of the gracious hosts, and Liam noted his grandmother was still missing from the festivities. He'd saw her familiar form leaving a little over half an hour ago as he and Elizabeth chatted with the newly crowned Queen of Oz. Smee had been by her side, his father's former crew member talking excitedly as the pair ducked out of the ballroom's main doors. It was odd that his grandmother would leave a ball once it started, particularly one of this caliber, but Liam had assumed there was an issue with a late arrival at the docks that needed her attention. Why else would the Royal Harbormaster seek Snow's attention in the middle of a ball?

After exchanging his empty wine glass for a full one as a butler walked past, Liam's eyes fell on the woman that had captured his heart so many years ago.

Elizabeth was a vision in her strapless gown, its blush color complementing her fair skin and the juxtaposition of the firm, corseted bodice with the soft, tulle skirt a perfect physical representation of her personality. She had left her dark brown hair down to cascade around her shoulders in soft waves upon his request, and the tiara her stepmother had given her when the White Queen of Wonderland declared Elizabeth her heir sparkled atop her head. They had been in the middle of catching up with the newly married Princess Alexandra when Liam had excused himself, his guilt at leaving Elizabeth's side during the festivities lessened by the fact that he had done so while she was talking with someone she knew and not one of the hundreds of strangers in attendance.

He just needed a few minutes to calm the turbulent thoughts that had continued to lurk at the edge of his subconscious since the War Council ended—not that he was having much luck with that.

At that thought, Liam took another large gulp of wine, his eyes moving from where Elizabeth still stood with Alexandra to the couples still dancing. He hadn't stopped thinking about the nightmare scenario his father's words had inadvertently created all afternoon. It had been there during the chat with his Aunt Belle, dancing at the fringes of his subconscious and tickling his anxiety just enough that he hadn't had the stomach to finish the tea his godmother sat in front of him. It had continued to gnaw at him while he aided his grandfather in keeping Granny from firing a crossbow into his Uncle's Will's backside for sneaking into the kitchen to taste test the dinner menu, and had persisted as he and Elizabeth got ready for the ball. Images of his newly discovered worst fear had played out in his mind's eye while he shrugged on the Naval uniform he currently wore, the combination of the tight collar and his anxiety making him feel like he was being choked.

It had led him to seek out his parents before the ball, despite the fact that he had told himself he would wait until after the event to talk with them about the course of action he was going to suggest. He had barely started to broach the subject with his father, however, when his niece had burst into his parent's sitting room with enough enthusiasm about her dress to fell a horde of ogres. Bringing the subject up had further been derailed when his grandparents and Elizabeth showed up, and before Liam had even had time to blink the entire family had been on their way to the ballroom. With the constant stream of music and dancing, as well as the fact he had been occupied with meeting guests from the moment he stepped into the room, it had been impossible to find a moment to pull his parents to the side and talk with them privately—and he desperately needed to.

The more his mind fixated on the scenario the more he realised it was something they needed to take action on sooner rather than later. Not only because stopping Maleficent was important, but because Elizabeth's safety hung in the balance.

"If you keep looking at the King of Meridas like that, he's going to think Misthaven is about to declare war on his kingdom."

Startling at the unexpected voice, Liam jerked his attention away from the dancing couples to see Elizabeth standing next to him.

"Considering the tariff tax he's trying to impose on us maybe we should," he replied before glancing towards where he had last seen her. "I thought you were talking to Alexandra about wedding details."

"I was, but then I noticed my fiance was standing in the corner brooding—again."

Liam scoffed with all the playful indignation he could muster. "I am _not_ brooding. Why does everyone—" Upon seeing the look on his fiancee's face, the one she had inherited from her own mother that clearly screamed she didn't believe what he was saying, he sighed dramatically. "Fine, I am brooding."

Elizabeth smirked. "You forget I've been looking at your face since we were babies. I know when you're brooding, particularly since you're terrible at hiding it."

"Remind me to get tips from my father on how to do that."

"He's just as horrible at it," she remarked with a playful smirk. "So, what has my handsome fiance brooding in the corner when he _should_ be enjoying himself?"

There it was—one of a hundred openings he'd had all afternoon to fill her in on what was going through his mind, to share the burden of his new found fear with the woman he was planning on spending the rest of his life with. Like all the times before, however, Liam couldn't bring himself to do it. He had contemplated telling her what his father's words at the War Council had made him realise all afternoon, but he couldn't ruin this night for her. Despite all the headaches surrounding its planning, he knew Elizabeth had been looking forward to the ball, especially since it was the first official event they would attend without hiding their relationship.

Eventually, he would have to tell her, particularly since what he was going to suggest to his parents impacted her as much as it did him. He just didn't want to do it tonight.

As he started to open his mouth to give her some excuse—he was tired, he didn't particularly like someone that was there—the playfulness disappeared from Elizabeth's face, and her brown eyes filled with understanding.

"It's Erin, isn't it? You're still worried about her."

He _was_ still worried about his sister, it just wasn't the foremost worry gnawing at him in that moment. Not that he could admit that without revealing the real reason he had been standing in a corner and brooding during the event that was celebrating their engagement. With his jaw clenching and guilt over having to semi-lie to Elizabeth again churning his stomach, Liam nodded.

Moving to stand in front of him, Elizabeth placed a comforting hand on his left shoulder. "I thought you felt better about the situation after talking to Henry," she murmured, her voice low enough so that the few guests and butlers near them didn't hear their conversation.

"I did—I do," Liam corrected with a shake of his head, "But it doesn't mean that worry instantly ceases."

Elizabeth smiled softly. "No, of course not, and I wouldn't expect anything less from you. Worrying about those you love is what makes you who you are, Liam. I'm sure Erin is fine, though—something that isn't nefarious has just delayed her return."

Her comforting words only made the guilt grow stronger. He couldn't help but feel like he was deceiving her by letting her think he had been thinking about Erin when in reality, it was a fear over what could happen to _Elizabeth_ that had driven him to brood in the middle of a ball. She had been beyond supportive over the last few days while he voiced his concerns about his sister and here he was, using that same support as a shield so she didn't discover the _real_ reason behind his melancholy thoughts. _Would she still comfort him when he revealed that he had been thinking about postponing their wedding?_

"I'll just feel better once I know all my loved ones are safe," he whispered, not even sure if she had heard him above the music. She clearly had, though, if her small nod was any indication.

"They will be," she began, having no way of knowing the double meaning behind his words, "But until then…" With a fluidity and speed that left him momentarily surprised, Elizabeth plucked the half empty goblet of wine from his right hand and deposited it on a passing butler's empty tray. Turning back towards him, she threw him a radiant smile and held out her hand. "How about you keep yourself occupied by twirling me around the dance floor a few more times, Lieutenant Jones?"

Just as Liam took her hand a flash of scarlet in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Turning his head towards the color on instinct, he saw the unmistakable figure of his mother leaving the dance floor with his father right beside her, the pair rapidly making their way to the open doors that lead to the courtyard. It was the first time since the ball had begun that neither he nor his parents were dancing, and he leapt at the opportunity to finally talk with them about what had been bothering him all afternoon.

"Elizabeth, wait."

Even he could hear the desperation in his tone, so when Elizabeth paused in her movement of turning towards the dance floor to look back at him, he wasn't surprised to see her brows knitted in confusion.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." At the look that clearly said she wasn't believing him again, he gave her hand a small squeeze to reassure her. "I promise, it's nothing. I've just been trying to speak with dad all night about using the Jolly Roger if Henry and I go in search of Erin, and this is the first time neither of us have been dancing or otherwise engaged."

It wasn't the reason he needed to speak with his father, but it also wasn't a complete lie at least. He _was_ going to tell his father they were commandeering his ship for their theoretical rescue mission—past history proved Killian Jones was far more amenable to his children taking off with his ship when he had forewarning about it—Liam just hadn't planned on doing it in the same breath as suggesting he postpone his wedding.

Elizabeth contemplated him for a long second, her brown gaze scrutinizing him closely before she nodded in understanding. "Of course. Dad owes me a dance, so I'll find him while you talk to them."

Ignoring the slight pang of guilt that shot through him, Liam raised Elizabeth's hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss to her knuckles, smiling as her ruby engagement ring brushed his cheek.

"I won't be long, darling."

With that Liam quickly moved to intercept his parents, the fact that it would draw too much unwanted attention the only thing that kept him from running the short distance. He had almost reached them when he saw Grumpy making his way towards them, and Liam cursed under his breath. _The dwarf always did have the worst timing._ Grumpy luckily glanced in his direction, and the aggravated look on Liam's face that he was doing nothing to hide was clearly enough to deter the dwarf from pulling his parent's into a conversation—though he was certain he was going to have to explain to his grandmother _why_ he had been giving the dwarf a mean look at some point.

He reached his parents just as they were stepping from the marble floor of the ballroom to the courtyard's stone pathway.

"Mom, Dad?"

His parents half turned towards him at the same time, his mother's right arm never disconnecting from where it rested in the crook of his father's left one.

"Liam," Emma greeted warmly, a wide smile on her beautiful face. "Are you having a good time?"

Liam nodded, knowing from thousands of childhood experiences that if he verbally said he was, his mother would pick up on the half-lie with her superpower.

"I hope you're spending most of the night dancing with Elizabeth and not bored to death talking politics and kingdom law with the other guests," his father added with a deep chuckle. "I know inviting them was required, but tonight is about you and Elizabeth."

"No, I am. She's dancing with Uncle Will right now. I just—" Forcing himself to take a deep breath and calm his racing heart, he continued, "I wanted to speak with you both about something… in private."

He didn't miss the look that passed between his parents. He'd seen them share that same look countless times in his twenty-seven years. The one where they immediately fell into the same wavelength, a whole conversation silently passing between them with just one glance—the fact that he was requesting to speak to them privately hadn't went unnoticed by his parents.

"Of course, lad."

The scrape of boots and the sharp _click_ of heels along the stone pathway was the only sound that fell between them as they made their way out to the courtyard. When they reached the stone benches that sat in the middle of the courtyard—far enough away from prying ears but still close enough to faintly hear the music playing inside the ballroom—his parents stopped and turned towards him, twin expressions of confusion on both their faces.

"Is everything okay?" Emma asked, cutting right to the chase. His mother had never been one for drawn out pleasantries when she knew something was wrong.

"Generally speaking, yes," Liam began, "But there has been something weighing on my mind all afternoon that I wanted to discuss with you." At his parent's patient nods, he took a deep breath.

"I think we should postpone the wedding."

His parents stared at him in complete and utter shock, the Savior's mouth falling open as her husband's eyebrows shot nearly to his graying hairline. If they weren't outside with the gentle noise of crickets surrounding them, Liam was certain he would have been able to hear a pin drop in the seconds following his statement.

"Wha—Liam, are you getting cold feet?" his mother asked at the same time his father said, "This is about the scale of the wedding, isn't it?"

"I'm _not_ getting cold feet, and this has nothing to do with the size of the wedding," he assured them quickly. _Perhaps taking a page from his mother's book and jumping right to the point hadn't been the best course of action._ "At the War Council today, when Aunt Belle was talking about the possibility of there still being an Avalonian artifact that we could use to get through Avalon's barrier spell, she said she would wait until after the wedding to go back to Camelot and search for one. I don't think she should. Aunt Belle should head back to Camelot first thing in the morning."

Emma gave her son a bewildered look. "What does Belle going before or after the wedding have to do with you wanting to _postpone_ it?"

"Because Aunt Belle, rightfully, doesn't want to miss her daughter and godson's wedding. Finding Avalon and learning how to defeat Maleficent, or even how Erin and I are suppose to, is more important than my wedding."

"It absolutely is _not_ ," Killian replied, the Captain's tone to his voice causing Liam's shoulders to instinctively straighten. Taking a deep breath, the older Jones continued in a gentler tone, "Defeating Maleficent is important, yes, but not more so than your or your sister's happiness, lad."

His mother nodded. "He's right, Liam. You can't let Maleficent, or the threat of her, dictate your life and when you do something. If you do, you give into fear and she wins without ever throwing a blow."

Shaking his head, Liam looked down at the cobblestones beneath his feet. What his parents was saying made sense, even echoed the sentiment his grandmother had had the last six months about embracing the quiet moments, but he still thought this was the best course of action. It was the _only_ course of action to protect Elizabeth, and nothing else mattered. Not what the kingdom's populace would think, his own parent's confusion, or the justifiable anger Elizabeth would feel when he told her. All that mattered to Liam was her safety.

"I can't move forward with the wedding, not with the threat of Maleficent lurking in the shadows," he murmured. Neither of his parents replied at first, and he didn't have to be looking at them to know they were having another silent conversation between them. After a few seconds he heard the distinct sound of his mother's heels on the cobblestone floor as she moved, and then the skirt of her scarlet dress came into his line of sight. There was only the briefest of pauses from the woman who had brought him into the world before her hands came up to cradle the sides of his bowed head.

"Liam, look at me."

Raising his head at the gentle command, he found his mother softly smiling at him, her emerald gaze filled with understanding.

"Seizing a quiet moment amid chaos, especially when you don't know when that chaos will strike, is frightening," she whispered. "Believe me, kid, I know. Do you know how fearful I was that Rumple would somehow succeed in turning me dark in the weeks leading up to mine and your father's wedding? I was _terrified_ of it, but in the end, we refused to let that threat deter us from capturing one of the happiest moments of our lives."

Moving to stand just behind his wife's right shoulder, Killian gave his son his own understanding smile. "Your mother is right, lad."

Liam sighed heavily, the gentle movement of his mother's thumbs along his scruff covered jaw the only thing that kept him from pacing the length of the courtyard. "I get what you both are saying, I _do_ ," he assured them, his eyes moving between each of them. "But waiting two and a half weeks for Aunt Belle to start working on our new plan of attack doesn't make sense, and prolongs the search for answers that we could get sooner if she goes now versus later."

His mother's ponytail swayed as she shook her head vehemently. "We've been searching for at least the answer on how you and Erin are suppose to defeat her for twenty-seven years, Liam. Waiting another eighteen days isn't going to change anything."

"There is also no guarantee whenor _if_ Belle will find an Avalonian artifact. It could take months, perhaps even years. Are you willing to wait that long to start your life with Elizabeth?"

Liam immediately shook his head at his father's question. He hadn't thought of that when he'd been thinking it was ludicrous to wait until after the wedding to start their plan of attack. Postponing things for a few weeks or months, maybe, but years was out of the question. He didn't want to wait that long to become Elizabeth's husband, that he knew for certain.

"What if we moved it up and stripped it down to the basics—just us and family, no huge event where every citizen within the next three realms knows about it? At least until after we deal with Maleficent. Grandma and Grandpa had two weddings."

"They did, and if that's what you and Elizabeth wanted we'd of course support it," Emma began, her hands falling to his shoulders, "But the two of you chose April 5 for a reason, yeah?"

Liam nodded. "It's the anniversary of when we first said I love you to each other."

His mother smiled. "Then keep it. Don't let the Dark Fairy alter when you want to commit to the love of your life, kid. You only get to do it the first time once, and it should be on a day that means something to _you_ , not one you randomly pick so research can start early."

"This isn't about us finding the means to defeat Maleficent quicker, is it, lad?"

Liam's eyes moved from his mother to his father, the younger Jones taking in his father's contemplative gaze and the slight tilt of his head. He knew that look, had inherited it even—Killian Jones was reading him like an open book.

"At least, it's not the _entire_ reason for you suggesting the postponement of your wedding."

"No, it's not," he agreed, a shuddering breath escaping him with the admission. "You said something during the War Council that made me realise a scenario that I've been kicking myself for not thinking of before today."

He watched his mother frown from the corner of his eye. "What is it?"

Swallowing, Liam looked between his parents and whispered, "Maleficent killed Matthew to hurt Erin. It wasn't her intention that day, but she didn't turn the opportunity down when it was presented to her. You said Maleficent knows Erin and I will be vulnerable soon, and I know you were talking about the protection spell, Dad, but my mind immediately went to the wedding. It's a huge affair, one Maleficent could easily find out about if she hasn't already…"

Understanding dawned on his parents' faces once again as he trailed off, suddenly unable to say the words that had been running through his head all afternoon.

"You're afraid she'll use the wedding to go after Elizabeth to get to you," Emma finished, her hands sliding from Liam's shoulders to rest by her sides.

He nodded. "Her wrath has been centered on Erin for most of our lives because of that delusional 'a daughter for a daughter' belief she has, but she's targeted me before."

"She has," Killian conceded, the older Jones' jaw ticking as he no doubt remembered Maleficent being the reason Liam had been poisoned with Dreamshade when he was four. "Why do you think she'll use your wedding to attack Elizabeth?"

"Because hurting the woman I love on the day I'm to wed her would have the most crippling impact."

Neither of his parents could deny that statement. Maleficent was a revenge driven woman who thrived off what little pain she could cause them, and if she could do it around a major event for added impact, the Black Fairy would.

"Even if she were to do that," Emma began, "There are safety measures in place. The wedding is taking place here and the entire kingdom is protected by mine and Regina's barrier spell."

Smiling sadly, Liam replied, "She's found a way around that once before, Mom, and I honestly wouldn't put it past her to do it again. I trust your magic, I do—Gods know it has saved me countless times—but nothing short of seeing Maleficent's ashes is going to give me true peace of mind on my wedding day at this point."

There was the briefest flicker of _something_ in his mother's eyes at his words, an emotion that Liam thought might have been fear, yet it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Before he could contemplate what he had seen his father began to speak.

"That's still letting Maleficent dictate your life, lad. I don't deny that your wedding puts a target on both of your backs for an attack from her, but it doesn't have to be a special occasion for her to do that. Matthew died protecting your sister and Hope on a seemingly normal, winter's day. Again, there is no guarantee of when we will defeat her—are you willing to not fully live your life with the woman you love because the Dark Fairy _could_ attack her at any time? Pausing the future plans you and Elizabeth are making isn't going to protect her more, Liam. It's only going to leave you with regrets in the end."

Swallowing against the fear that was still clawing at his throat, Liam nodded. Logically he knew his father was right. The most devastating day in his sister's life had begun like any other—who's to say that Maleficent wouldn't pick another mundane day to hurt Elizabeth over their wedding day? Misthaven _was_ protected by the barrier spell, and on the off chance the Dark Fairy found another way through it, he knew his family would use every available resource and talent they had to protect his fiancee. There were four very proficient magic users living in the castle, and his Aunt Elsa would be there as well. Even Merlin, the most powerful sorcerer in the realms, had been invited to the wedding. Between all that magic and the swords of the rest of his family members, both direct and indirect, the chapel would be the most heavily fortified room in the kingdom.

So why couldn't he let go of the fear that something would happen to Elizabeth?

"Killian? Why don't you go back inside and make sure Hope isn't getting into any trouble. I'm sure she'd be delighted to have a dance with her grandfather."

Pulled from his internal musing, Liam refocused his attention to see that his mother was giving his father a knowing look over her right shoulder. _What was going on? Why would his mom be sending his dad inside right now?_ Seeming to understand his wife's cryptic words and what she was silently communicating with her look, Killian nodded and moved to leave, but not before stopping and enveloping his son in a hug.

"Don't do anything rash, lad," Liam felt his father murmur into his ear. "Take the night to think about everything your mother and I have said, and in the morning if it's what you _both_ want, we'll support the decision and start taking steps to postpone or move the wedding up."

Without waiting for a response, either verbal or physical, the former pirate headed back to the lively ballroom with the confident walk of a man who knew his wife would take care of things. More than a little perplexed over the turn of events, Liam stared at his father's retreating form for a long moment before turning his attention back to his mother.

"What was that about?"

Smiling softly, Emma inclined her head towards one of the stone benches. "Come sit with me."

Well he'd certainly heard _that_ tone before. It wasn't the one his mother had used when he'd gotten into trouble as a young boy, or even the warning one when he had been on the verge of doing something she didn't like. No, it was the tone that foreshadowed an open and serious conversation between mother and son, the kind where wisdom was given and discipline wasn't.

"I asked your father to go inside partly because I knew no matter what sound advice he gave you, you're in your head too much right now to really listen to it," she began once they were seated side by side on one of the benches. "He knew it too, of course."

Liam frowned at his mother's words. "No, I was listening, it's just—"

"You can't let go of the fear that something will happen to her."

Taken aback by the very words he had been thinking of only moments ago said aloud, and by someone else other than himself, Liam stared at his mother.

"How did you know?"

"Because I'm your mother," she replied with a small shrug. "And… well, it's what you _do_ , Liam. You're a control freak. You hate not having control of a situation, even where there's absolutely nothing about it you _can_ control, such as what someone else is going to do."

Liam's shoulders squared defenselessly. "I'm not a—"

Before he could even finish his sentence, his mother was giving him her patented _'Really?'_ look.

"Kid, you are. It's not a _bad_ thing, or at least normally it isn't. You like order and never leaving anything up to chance, which is one of the many things that make you a great leader. But in an instance like this, when you can't control or properly determine when something is going to happen, you worry about the 'what ifs' until it consumes you. Which—and correct me if I'm wrong—is _exactly_ what's been happening since the War Council."

Sighing, Liam looked away from his mother's all-too-knowing gaze and turned his face towards the night sky. He couldn't correct her because that _was_ what had happened. From the moment his father's statement made him realise Maleficent could use his wedding as an opportunity to do quality damage to him, it was all he had thought about. Liam also had to reluctantly agree with everything else she had said.

"No, you're right," he admitted quietly as his eyes traced the cygnus constellation above his head.

"Of course I am."

Chuckling at her response, Liam moved his gaze back to his mother to find her smiling fondly at him. "How did you know that was what was going on?"

"Mother's instinct. That, and again, you weren't really processing what your father was saying. He's verbose, but normally his pirate-y heart to heart talks calm you down. This time you just became more agitated the longer he, and I, gave you advice."

She had him there. The entire reason he hadn't went straight to his grandmother with his proposed idea was because he knew his parents would make sense of his jumbled emotions. Yet even with their sound advice the only option he could still see was to postpone the wedding.

"Everything you and Dad said makes sense, it's just…"

"Nothing we say is calming that fear."

"Yeah." Using his thumb to twist the ring that had once belonged to his father, he whispered, "I can't lose her, Mom."

Reaching over to clasp his left hand with her right one, Emma gave it a comforting squeeze. "You won't."

Liam shook his head before she had even finished. "You can't say that for certain. Erin never thought she'd lose Matthew and look what happened."

Having turned his attention to the ring he was still twisting after he spoke, Liam didn't notice the way his mother flinched at his words or the shadow that flickered across her eyes.

"No, she didn't, but she also never let the threat of Maleficent stop her from having what little time she did with him. The unfortunate fact is that as mine and your father's son, you will _always_ have to worry about someone going after the ones you love because you and your sister have had a target painted on your backs since the day you were born. Whether you marry Elizabeth in two days, two weeks, or a year from now, that worry will still be there."

Looking back at her, Liam replied solemnly, "Then one has to ask themselves if she's really safe being with me."

He expected his mother to scoff at the remark, or launch into a rebuttal of Prince Charming proportions about how he was a fool for even thinking like that, but instead the Savior simply tilted her head and fixed him with a knowing look.

"I think you and I both know what her answer to that would be."

He did. One of the things he loved about Elizabeth was that she didn't try to appease him when he uttered dramatic statements or fell into a brooding mood, much like his mother had just done. No, Elizabeth would tell him not only was he being a fool, but that she had been well aware of the dangers that came with being a part of his life before they were ever a couple.

Liam inhaled sharply at the internal thought, and like a torch flaring in a dark cave, he realised the absolute folly that had been him trying to postpone their wedding under those circumstances. She'd been a witness to the horrors countless villains had tried to inflict on his family all her life, and yet Elizabeth hadn't paused for a second when engaging in a relationship with him or accepting his marriage proposal. The Dark Fairy could use their wedding as an opportunity to attack her—there was no question about that—but it wouldn't _matter_ to Elizabeth. After all, hadn't they been planning that very wedding while under the presumption Maleficent could retaliate any day now that she was fully healed? There was something about that realization coupled with what his parents had said earlier that eased his fear. It was still there, clawing at the very depths of his being, but for the first time since the War Council, he felt like it wasn't choking him.

"I've been such a bloody fool."

His mother chuckled. "Your fears aren't without merit, kid. In your deep-seated need to protect the woman you love, you just lost sight of the fact that Elizabeth came into this relationship with open eyes when it came to the danger that surrounds us."

"And you knew I had done that," Liam replied, a playful accustation to his tone.

"That would be the _other_ reason I asked your father to go inside, yes." Squeezing his hand again, she smiled warmly. "You just needed a quiet moment to remind yourself of it."

Returning her smile with a grateful one of his own, Liam said, "Yeah. Thanks, Mom."

"Anytime, kid. So… will we be altering your wedding plans?"

"I won't lie and say I'm still not worried about Maleficent using the timing to hurt Elizabeth, but… no, I don't see a reason for us to alter when we're getting married." Pausing as another thought struck him, Liam added, "Can we not tell Grandma I was contemplating that, though? I'd rather not be subjected to _that_ pep talk amidst all the other wedding stuff."

Emma pursed her lips in contemplation. "Only if you tell Elizabeth. You may not be dead set on it anymore but she's your fiance, and this is something you shouldn't try to hide from her."

"Deal."

As his mother moved to stand, the good form his father had raised him with had Liam scrambling up from his seated position to offer her his arm. Laughing, but knowing better than to try to wave her son off, Emma linked their arms as they began heading back to the ballroom.

"You get it from me, you know."

"What?"

"The worrying about things you can't control."

Bringing them to a stop a few feet from the double doors, Liam looked at his mother in surprise. "I do?"

Emma hummed knowingly as her gaze found his. "I don't do it with things pertaining to myself, but I definitely do with those I love. Case in point—long ago, I was afraid that by starting a relationship with your father, it would cost him his life. Everyone else I had ever been with was gone, so I thought in order to protect him the best course of action was to push him away. What your father taught me was that I couldn't control when or how something happened to him, and that in trying to do so, I was robbing both of us of all the quiet moments that would happen."

"You don't do it anymore though," he pointed out.

"Don't I?" his mother responded with a raised eyebrow. "You were too young to remember, but after Ursula poisoned you with Dreamshade I refused to let you out of my sight for months. I couldn't control the fact that you might be kidnapped again, so I kept you either in my arms or within reach of me at all times."

He didn't remember that, and in fact had never been able to recall anything from when Ursula kidnapped him and Erin and took them to Neverland. "How did you stop worrying that it would happen?"

"It didn't happen overnight, and there are still times even to this day when it hits me, but eventually through self analysis and with your father's help, I realised I couldn't let my fear of someone kidnapping you take over our lives. If I did, Maleficent won, and I refused to give her that satisfaction."

As they started moving again, Liam couldn't help but admire his mother. He had obviously never known the closed-off woman that left his father on top of a beanstalk, but he could imagine how differently that younger version of his mother would have handled this situation if the walls his sister had procured from her were any indication. Emma Jones had come a long way since Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke all those years ago.

Entering the ballroom to the sound of another lively waltz being played, Liam instantly spotted his father's unmistakable figure standing off the the side of the dance floor. He was deep in conversation with his grandfather and Uncle Will, and the sight of his uncle reminded him of the reason he had given Elizabeth for needing to talk with his parents.

"Just so I didn't outright _lie_ to Elizabeth earlier, if Erin isn't back by the time the ball ends, Henry and I are taking the Jolly Roger to look for her. Can you let Dad know?"

Emma gave her son a perplexed look. "He already knows."

"How?" Liam asked with a frown. "I know Henry hadn't had time to tell him yet, what with everyone getting ready for tonight and all."

"Liam, your father is a perceptive man. He knew you'd been doing that whole 'worrying about something you can't control' over your sister for days, and despite all the 'old' jokes we throw at him, his hearing is freakishly amazing. He had one ear on your and Henry's conversation the entire time."

Liam gaped at his mother. "You know, it's a wonder Elizabeth and I were _ever_ able to keep our relationship a secret."

"Well, considering the only person who _didn't_ know about it was your sister, I'd say you really weren't able to."

Ignoring the playful jab, Liam inquired, "So I take it Dad ordered that the ship be ready for us?"

As his mother opened her mouth to reply something behind him caught her eye, causing the Savior to smile.

"He did, but I don't think it's going to be necessary for you and Henry to go look for Erin, kid."

Liam sighed. "Mom, I know we just had this long talk about not letting my worry control my life, but she's—"

"Hey, little brother."

Heart thumping rapidly against his chest, Liam spun in place to see none other than Erin standing behind him, her figure covered in a jade colored dress and looking for all the world like she hadn't been late to the ball celebrating his upcoming wedding. Biting back the retort that her words always prompted from him, Liam pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

"By the Gods, you're okay!"

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" came her muffled response against his uniform jacket. Breaking their hug, Liam stepped back to fix his sister with an incredulous look.

"You were suppose to be home no later than two days ago!"

Erin slowly nodded. "Right, but it took us longer to infiltrate the castle then we thought it would—damn wizard had increased the number of guards. Not to mention the bloody storm that took us by surprise when we were leaving Narnia."

Those were all sound excuses, and spoke to how Elizabeth had assured him his sister was probably detained due to non-nefarious reasons, but Liam wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily. Crossing his arms and schooling his features into what he knew was a perfect match for his father's disgruntled look, he asked, "And you didn't think to send word that you were being held up?"

Clearly having not expected _that_ reaction from him, Erin blinked in surprise. "I—what? Since when have I _ever_ done that when on a retrieval? Besides, I was in the ass end of Narnia where there's both a lack of writing implements and birds. We used the only one we had to send word that we had arrived." Looking to their mother she added, "What's with him?"

"Your brother was just worried about you," Emma replied knowingly as she moved around Liam to give her daughter a hug.

"Why would you be—"

Knowing his sister better than he knew himself, Liam saw the exact moment she realized what their mother meant. _Apparently his tendency to worry about things he couldn't control was well known within their family._

Before any of them could say another word a happy shout of, "Mama!" could be heard over the music, and in the blink of an eye his niece was barreling into Erin's left side with all the force her six-year-old body could muster. Barely steadying herself before the onslaught, his sister laughed as she reached down to pick up her daughter.

"Hello, lady bug."

Her small arms wrapping around her mother's neck, Hope smiled brilliantly. "You're home!"

"Aye, that I am."

"Did you get the thing away from the bad man?"

Nodding, Erin bumped her nose affectionately against Hope's. "I did. He won't be able to hurt anyone else."

"Good. Will you dance with me? Bae and Jefferson are okay at it, but they aren't as good as you."

Chuckling at her daughter's bluntness, Erin nodded. "I would love to." Movement at Hope's side as she sat on her mother's hip caught Liam's attention, and he glanced down to see the fingers of his sister's right hand quickly moving in the silent language their father had taught them.

 _We'll talk after the ball, okay?_

Meeting Erin's gaze, Liam nodded. He wasn't _really_ angry with his sister, but he wouldn't back down from the fact that he had been concerned over her lack of communication when Maleficent was once again a credible threat.

"I'm glad your home safe, Em."

"It's good to be home," Erin replied as she headed towards the dance floor with Hope still in her arms, leaving Liam alone with their mother once again.

"I suppose that's a lesson in _not_ letting a worry become so great that I make a rash decision," he murmured, though he was more than a little surprised to see his mother's casual shrug at the remark.

"Who's to say I wouldn't have been on the ship with you and Henry?" Leaning up onto her tiptoes, she placed an affectionate kiss to his cheek. "Don't forget our deal, kid."

With a thankful smile pulling at his lips, Liam watched his mother move to where his father, grandfather, and uncle were still standing before going in search of his fiance. Finding Elizabeth happily chatting with Queen Guinevere and her step-mother less than five minutes later, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back flush to his front. It wasn't the most proper way for them to stand as a couple, particularly in such a formal setting, but society rules were made to be broken and he _was_ the son of a pirate.

Resting her hands atop his own that lay against her stomach, Elizabeth turned her head towards him.

"Everything okay?"

Thinking of his sister, travel weary but safe within the walls of their home and the fact that he had a woman in his arms who was willing to make a life with him despite all the danger surrounding him, Liam nodded as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Elizabeth's exposed shoulder.

"Yeah, everything's perfect."


	6. Chapter 5: Ghosts of Times Long Past

**A/N: HELLO. HI! Yes, I am not dead, and yes, this is actually an update!**

 **I fell into a little (** _see: major_ **) writing funk around January of this year, and it's been a very difficult time for me creatively. There were legit tears shed over my inability to put words down that I didn't absolutely hate. I had the support of some amazing friends though, and their love and encouragement got me through that very dark tunnel. 3 Updates will still take time (thought hopefully not another 8 months), so just bear with me! Many thanks to spartanguard and always-been-a-pirate for their beta reading services! I also want to thank wellhellotragic, xpumpkindumplingx, phiralovesloki, and distant-rose for being sound boards for all manner of things when it came to not only this chapter, but the story as a whole.**

 **As always, enjoy, and reviews feed a muse who just came out of a writing funk. Justttttt saying!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Ghosts of Times Long Past**

* * *

Adjusting the collar of his formal jacket, Eric made his way through the nearly deserted corridors of the Charming castle with only the ever present guards who stood watch as witness to the pirate captain's hurried and nearly frantic pace.

After leaving Erin with a clearly unamused Snow, he'd went straight to his own bedchamber that lay a few doors down from hers to get ready. While he still felt awkward at times with having been given a permanent room within the castle—in the family wing, no less—his initial resistance to Erin's idea had slowly dissolved over the last five months. After a decade at sea, he'd forgotten just how wonderful it was to have ample walking space that wasn't hindered by the length of a ship, as well as a proper sized bed that allowed him to roll over without fear of falling off it. Being able to stay warm without relying on dozens of blankets or a coal oven that barely worked had been another welcome upside to his move inside the castle. The main reason his resolve against the idea had crumbled, however, was Erin. He'd been shocked when Emma revealed Erin's need to protect him after their Agrabah trip, but more than that, Eric had finally understood why she suggested he take Elizabeth's old room to begin with.

If having him inthe family wing was what lessened her fear in any way, then Eric was willing to live with the tendrils of awkwardness that still persisted to give her that peace of mind.

Upon entering his room, he'd seen an outfit already laying on the four poster bed as well as a tub filled with still steaming water, and Eric had only been able to shake his head at the sight. It had to be Snow's handy work. She had more than likely instructed a maid or two to ready the bath and his clothes after Smee told her about the arrival of his ship in the harbor. He normally balked at the idea of the staff waiting on him like a member of the family—it was a constant disagreement he had with both Snow and David—but in that instance he had been thankful they had done it. Running back and forth to draw himself a bath would have taken time Eric didn't have, especially since he was already late for the ball.

Not that having a bath pre-drawn had mattered in the end. He was running twenty minutes behind where he should have been, and Eric groaned at the thought before quickening his pace.

 _It was all Merlin's fault…_

* * *

 _Taking off his sweat-soaked clothes and tossing them into a far corner, Eric had just placed one leg into the blessedly hot bath water when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone translocating inside his room. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him the familiar sight of dark blue smoke appearing by the door that led to his sitting room, and he cursed as he scrambled to extract his leg while reaching for a towel to cover his lower region._

" _Bloody hell, Merlin!"_

 _Once the smoke cleared, the centuries-old wizard blinked in surprise at the sight of an annoyed and practically naked Eric standing less than ten feet in front of him._

" _My apologies, Captain. I didn't mean to intrude during such a… inconvenient moment."_

" _Well, you did," Eric muttered irritably. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were stopping a war of some sort over seashells in Atlantica."_

 _Clasping his hands together in front of his gray robe and actively looking at everything_ _ **but**_ _Eric, Merlin replied, "Technically I still am. I just translocated here long enough to have a conversation with you and then I will be returning."_

" _A conversation?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Could this conversation not wait until, I don't know, I'm bathed and dressed?"_

" _That depends," Merlin replied while rocking on his heels. "Are you unclothed because you're getting ready for the ball?"_

" _That's generally what one does before taking a bath," Eric dead panned._ _ **What God had he displeased to have to endure this? Was this his punishment for going along with Erin's failed plan to deceive her grandmother?**_

" _Then no, it can't wait. What we need to discuss centers heavily around the celebration of Liam and Elizabeth's impending nuptials."_

 _Closing his eyes, Eric pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand that wasn't holding the towel and breathed deeply through his nose. He knew from years of personal experience that Merlin liked to talk in riddles and in a non-linear way sometimes, but he_ _ **really**_ _wasn't in the mood for the wizard's conversational style right now—especially since he was naked and running late._

" _What in the seven hells are you talking—"_

" _King Septimus."_

 _The air left Eric's lungs as if he had been punched at that name, and the world began to take a sickening turn behind his closed eyes. Images of a blood-soaked nightgown flashed through his mind, the red color a vibrant hue against the white linen it had seeped into, and Eric swore he could feel the slippery wetness of it rubbing against his bare legs just as he had on that summer night twenty-four years ago. He could hear the sound of bare feet slapping against stone echoing sharply in his ears, and his own breathing began to pick up with the memory of someone else's frantic and labored breaths…_

" _Eric?"_

 _Snapping his eyes open, the pirate captain blinked a few times to orientate himself. He'd somehow ended up sitting on the floor of his bedchamber, the towel still barely covering his modesty and the cold stone beneath his bare ass slowly seeping into his bones. Merlin was on one knee in front of him, the wizard's blue gaze filled with a mixture of understanding and guilt. He was the only person in any realm of existence who knew why that name would affect Eric, as well as the horrible memories that had just overtaken him._

" _I'm fine," Eric whispered, trying to force his breathing to return to normal despite the way his heart still raced within his chest._

" _I'm sorry. I was trying to find a less jarring way to start the conversation—"_

 _Interrupting the wizard's apology with a wave of his hand, Eric sighed not in agitation, but in resignment. "I'm fine, really. When it comes to him and what he represents, there is no delicate way to bring it up."_

 _Merlin nodded, but remained in his kneeling position. "Memories?"_

" _Just flashes. Bits and pieces, like a puzzle that hasn't been completed though I know the final image." Running a hand through his hair, Eric murmured, "It's been years since that's happened."_

" _Names hold power, Captain, especially when they are responsible for what he did. Do you need help up?"_

 _Eric shook his head. "No, I'll be fine right here. I will, however, need a drink to get through_ _ **this**_ _discussion."_

 _A cloud of blue smoke immediately appeared next to him, and once it cleared a bottle of Killian's finest rum sat on the floor of his bedchamber. Eric's quirked eyebrow was met with a sympathetic shrug from the wizard._

" _I figured it was the least I could do."_

 _Not arguing the matter, Eric pulled the cork out of the bottle and took a large gulp, willing the amber colored liquid to give him the courage to voice the question he already knew the answer to._

" _He's going to be there, isn't he?"_

" _Unfortunately, yes," Merlin replied, finally moving to stand to his full height. "I tried talking Snow and David into not inviting him before l had to leave for Atlantica, but—"_

" _He's a reigning monarch," Eric finished, doing nothing to hide the bitterness in his tone. "It would be seen as a slap in the face if he weren't invited to a royal affair, and could have repercussions for both Misthaven and Wonderland." Laughingly humorless, he added, "It would seem over a decade at sea didn't fully erase my early years of political schooling."_

 _A sad smile pulled at the corners of Merlin's lips. "David and Snow may not have had a choice, but you do. You don't have to attend the ball with him there."_

 _Eric was shaking his head before the wizard had even finished his sentence. "No, I do. Liam and Elizabeth are… they're my friends, and I want to celebrate their engagement with them. Besides, Erin will be there, and you know how much she hates these types of things."_

" _Are you sure that is a wise decision?"_

" _It's the_ _ **only**_ _decision. It wouldn't be the first time I had to deal with something concerning my homeland, remember?"_

" _This is different." Taking a step towards Eric, Merlin waited until the captain's eyes met his own before continuing. "Three years ago, you dealt with his council, Eric - not him. No one that was in the room with you during those talks was responsible for the greatest tragedy of your life. Are you_ _ **really**_ _going to be able to stand in the same room as the man who killed your parents and not run him through with your sword, considering the reaction you just had to his name alone?"_

 _Eric's jaw clenched at the mention of Septimus' crime. He would rather jump into mermaid-infested waters than breath one particle of air with the man who had made him an orphan when he was eight, but if he didn't show up, Septimus won again—and that was something Eric couldn't stomach. Not that the King of Stormhold would even remember him. Why would he? Septimus thought he was dead, and Eric had taken every precaution in hiding his real identity from the moment his mother had closed the faux door behind him._

 _Moreover, if Eric didn't attend the ball, it would draw the attention of the entire Charming clan, and the last thing he needed was to set off the Savior's lie detector. The Charming's ballroom was the largest of any castle, anyway—he could spend hours mingling with the royal guests and never once run into or even see the murdering tyrant. Taking another pull from the rum bottle, Eric studied the concerned face of the only person who knew his real past for a long moment before taking a deep breath._

" _I'll be fine, old friend."_

* * *

That should have been the end of the conversation, but of course it wasn't.

Merlin had spent another fifteen minutes making sure Eric was certain about his decision to still attend the ball before translocating back to Atlantica, despite Eric's unwavering conviction. Not that he couldn't understand or even respect why Merlin questioned his resolve. The wizard knew that Eric had spent his adult life actively taking every opportunity he could to undermine Septimus from afar, so it was only natural that Merlin would be worried about what Eric would do when he was finally in the same room as the King of Stormhold. It wasn't just regarding the political fallout that would occur if Eric killed Septimus, though. Merlin hadn't said the words out loud, but Eric knew the wizard well enough to know he was also worried about what seeing Septimus for the first time in twenty-four years would do to Eric emotionally.

He just wished Merlin's paternal instincts had come _after_ his bath so he wouldn't be running so unbelievably late.

Finally reaching the ballroom at a near run, Eric nodded in greeting towards the heavily armored guards who stood on either side of the ornate double doors before making his way inside. He'd barely taken three steps into the crowded room when he heard a familiar, accented voice boom above even in the low hum of hundreds of individual conversations and lively music.

"The prodigal pirate has returned!"

Looking to his left, he saw Will standing off to the side of the ballroom with David and Killian, the three men momentarily sequestering themselves away from the other guests in a corner. They were all dressed in their finest attire—David in a cream colored doublet that no doubt matched Snow's dress, Will in a lavender jacket very similar to Eric's own, and Killian in a more formal version of his great coat—and each held a goblet in their right hand. Eric would have bet every doubloon he owned, plus a thousand more that he didn't, that Will and Killian's goblets were filled with rum instead of the standard wine Snow served at events like this.

Chuckling at Will's overly loud exclamation, Eric made his way toward the men. "I don't know about prodigal, but it is good to be back," he remarked as he reached them. "One more day in that frozen wasteland and I would have turned to ice."

David nodded in understanding. "Narnia is a beautiful kingdom, but not one I want to spend more than a few hours in." Turning to his son-in-law, he added, "How long were we there when the kids were little? A month?"

"Two weeks. It just felt like a month between the cold and wrangling five children under the age of five."

"Gods, don't remind me of that trip," Will groaned. "I can still hear Elizabeth's cries of indignation as I dragged her kicking and screaming from those bloody penguins we stumbled upon."

Eric joined David and Killian as they laughed at Will's grimace, the young pirate captain able to perfectly picture what an outraged three-year-old Elizabeth must have looked like as her father took her away from something she was interested in.

"What took so long on the retrieval, anyway?"

Swiping a goblet from a passing butler's tray, Eric sighed at the King of Misthaven's question. "A whole host of reasons. It took us twelve hours more than we had planned to get to the damn castle as we arrived in the middle of a snow storm. _Then_ we discovered the wizard had increased the number of guards since Erin's previous visit. We spent two days observing their routine, plus another to even locate _where_ in the castle he might have hidden the scepter. By the time we actually made our move to get it, Erin was speaking in nothing but expletives—in multiple languages, I might add."

Killian chuckled. "Sounds like my daughter."

"At least you were able to retrieve it without incident."

Eric's stomach clenched at Will's words. The memory of free falling through freezing air with Erin quickly flashed through his mind, and he fought to keep his facial expression from giving that away. It hadn't _exactly_ been without incident, but just as he hadn't sold Erin out to her grandmother on why they were entering her bedchamber via the balcony, Eric wasn't going to tell the three most protective men in Erin's life about their near death experience. When, or if she told them, was her decision alone to make.

"Without incident," he stated, nodding to further cement the lie before taking a large gulp of wine.

"What was without incident?"

Turning his head at the familiar voice, Eric found himself choking on the red liquid mid-swallow as his eyes landed on Erin.

Gone were the travel clothes he had last seen her in, the leather garments replaced with an off the shoulder dress that had lace sleeves covering her arms from wrist to mid-bicep. It fit tightly to her upper body and flared out at the waist into a voluminous yet still manageable sized skirt, with only the hint of a train trailing behind her. The color—a dark jade that reminded him of the rolling hills of his homeland—perfectly complemented the slight tan she still retained from their visit to Agrabah nearly four months ago, and her hair that had been hastily braided for their climb into her bedchamber now hung in soft waves around her exposed shoulders. The only adornments she wore were a simple pair of emerald earrings and the tiara that had been specially crafted for her when she passed her great-grandmother's down to Hope—the rows of diamonds and sapphires shaped like cresting waves glittering in the ballroom's light.

 _She looks absolutely breathtaking,_ he thought—an accurate description, really, considering he was having trouble finding his breath after inhaling wine at the mere sight of her. Coming to a stop on his left side, Erin looked at him in bewilderment while giving his back a few hard thumps.

"Can you not hold your wine either, D'Harper?"

"I just didn't expect you to appear from out of nowhere," he answered, voice slightly rough from the strain he'd put on his throat muscles. Will made an aborted sound that sounded a lot like, _"Sure,"_ and Eric subtly shot the White King of Wonderland a glare.

Seemingly missing the exchange, Erin laughed. "If either of us appeared out of nowhere, it was you. _I've_ been here for twenty minutes even with having to get into this rib crusher of a dress."

"Well, crushed ribs aside, it looks lovely on you."

"You have to say that, you're my godfather," Erin teased before turning her attention to her grandfather and father. "So what incidents were you discussing when I scared Eric and made him inhale his wine?"

"Oh, the incidents with your retrieval."

He felt Erin's entire body go rigid next to him, and Eric cursed internally. When he had decided to let her reveal the particulars of how they had escaped, he hadn't planned on her doing so while under the assumption he had _already_ done it, thus making her feel betrayed and like she had been backed into a corner. A quick glance told him Erin had managed to keep the fear and surprise off her face at her grandfather's simple reply, which meant he could save the situation before she inadvertently revealed more than she might want to.

"Just how it went off without them," he remarked, imploring her to catch on with a raised eyebrow when she turned her head towards him. "Except for us getting lost in a snowstorm and having to decode guard patrols, of course."

Understanding flickered within her eyes instantly, and he felt the tension leave her body from where their arms were pressed against one another.

"Oh, yes. We retrieved it without a single problem—aside from those," she corrected, smiling at the three paternal figures in her life as if she wasn't hiding something from them. "So, has anything new developed in regards to Maleficent since we've been gone?"

It was clearly a change in topic, and as David started to fill them in on what had been discussed at the latest War Council, Eric breathed an internal sigh of relief. They'd at least managed to fumble through _that_ conversation without letting on to the others that something else had happened on the retrieval. Which, considering Erin's ever perceptive father, was a down right miracle.

Now he just had to get through the rest of the night without encountering Septimus.

* * *

 _It's time._

The stiff, bristle brush stopped moving along the horse's chestnut coat, and the young prince turned his head towards the east where the voice had come from. Rolling hills that were dotted with the whitest daisies stretched out beyond the stables into the far distance, their gentle curves only halted by the forest that lay like a faint ink dot on the horizon. It should have been impossible for him to see anything from this distance, but he caught the unmistakable white light moving amid the trees, the ethereal glow brighter than even the sun that hung high above his head.

After all, a God's light could be seen from any distance.

Tossing the brush aside, he quickly mounted his horse and headed towards the light at a full gallop with a smile on his face and his heart swelling with anticipation. The young prince had been waiting for the summons since the first night of the blue moon, his eyes and ears trained to the distant forest where his eternal reward would be given. He was granted it only once a year, but that was all he needed. One fleeting glance before every Spring to know they were alive and well was enough to put him at ease. It was impossible for him to be with them, the choice ripped from the young prince in a moment he would do over and over again for all of eternity if it ensured their protection. Everyone who resided here felt the same about a loved one they had left behind, and it was the entire reason the Goddess that co-ruled this realm saw fit to reward them once a year.

Reaching the forest, he dismounted his horse and left the magnificent steed to graze freely on the lush grass. There was no fear of someone stealing him—not in this tranquil place—and he wouldn't wander far, the horse somehow attuned to his every need and whereabouts as a creature of this realm. With a friendly pat to the horse's hind quarter, the young prince made his into the trees, following the path he had only walked six times. There was no rule against the realm's inhabitants entering the forest outside their yearly reward, but they stayed away from the sacred ground as an unspoken sign of respect and gratitude, each of them knowing the Goddess didn't _have_ to give them what she did. The deeper he went the more the forest came alive around him. Birds heralded his approach, and all manner of forest creatures from rabbits to deers scurried to watch his journey while the very trees, eternal beings themselves, seemed to sway in greeting.

After no more than a few minutes, the path emptied into a small clearing. The trees that surrounded it stood like silent, ancient guardians, and his eyes landed on the object he had spent the last year waiting to see again.

 _Finally._

The young prince had been in the clearing six times, and every time he stood on the sacred ground the beauty of what lay at its center took his breath away.

It was an intricately carved fountain, crafted of the purest ivory and with runes in a long dead language etched into the surface of its bowl. The same white daisies that dotted the hillsides of this realm surrounded its base, as if their delicate petals could somehow protect the magical water that lay within. It looked to have been there since the dawn of time and he was certain it had—at least since the Goddesshad made the world above them her home for half the year.

She stood next to the fountain, the divine light that had marked her presence to him back at the stables now gone so as not to blind him. Her features were delicate and soft, the porcelain skin that covered the divine being glowing in the sunlight that filtered in through the treetops. She was clothed in a sleeveless green gown that was almost too simple for the power she wielded, both literally and figuratively, and her hair fell in gentle waves around her shoulders. There were white daisies sporadically woven into the red locks like floral gemstones, and eyes the color of the clearest sapphire looked upon him with a kindness no mortal could possibly possess.

It was no wonder the Lord of this realm had fallen madly in love with her eons before.

"Come," she bade him with a wave of her hand, pink lips pulling into a soft smile that radiated warmth and divinity all at once.

With anticipation pounding in his veins, the young prince moved towards the fountain and gripped the edge of the ivory bowl. _How much had they changed in the last year? Would sorrow still color his wife's emerald gaze? Had the child he never held grown even more? Were they still happy and safe?_ The litany of questions flying through his mind vanished as the tips of the Goddess's fingers touched the water within the fountain. A ripple extended out from the divine touch, distorting his reflection momentarily before the clear liquid glowed a brilliant golden color.

When the light dissipated the water was gone, replaced with a mirror-like substance that showed him not his own face, but a world he hadn't been a part of for six years.

* * *

A few hours later, Eric was in yet another corner of the ballroom—this time conversing and laughing with Liam—when he spotted the very person Merlin had translocated from Atlantica to forewarn him about.

The King of Stormhold, while approaching half a century in age, physically looked like he was still in his mid-30's. His physique was as slim and well built as it had been when he was younger—the sedentary lifestyle of ruling a kingdom for two decades having not impacted the king who was known for, above all else, his vanity. Raven colored hair with the faintest hints of gray at the temples fell to his shoulders, and hazel eyes that brimmed with deviousness were set above a hawk-like nose. Standing less than twenty feet away from Eric, Septimus was surrounded by a gaggle of women whose tiaras and finely stitched dresses declared them royalty of some kingdom or another—none of them aware of the calculating nature or the blood that stained the hands of the man they were currently flirting with.

Eric's jaw clenched as Septimus laughed, the sound going straight to the deep rooted hatred that was still anchored to Eric's soul, even after all these years. The ferocity with which it rose within him nearly choked him, and the hand that wasn't holding a goblet twitched at his side. Four years ago nothing would have stopped him from marching over and plunging his sword into the tyrant's stomach, but now he knew that if he did, he wouldn't be the only one involved in the fallout from that action. The Charmings, along with Will and Ana, would be dragged into war when Stormhold's corrupt council undoubtedly called for his execution. He had grown close to Erin's entire family, and Eric couldn't allow the people he had come to respect and look at as friends to die for a brief moment of satisfaction.

So while every instinct was screaming at him to attack, to avenge the deaths of his parents, he remained rooted to where he stood—reminding himself of the repercussions and what he would lose over and over again until the hammering of his own heart faded from his ears.

"Eric?"

Pulled from this thoughts, Eric moved his eyes away from Septimus and back to the man standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Liam. What were you saying?"

An amused look crossed the Lieutenant's face. "I was asking you something about the retrieval but it would seem something, or _someone_ , behind me has caught your attention. They wouldn't happen to be a blonde princess whose wearing a green dress, now would they?"

Despite the anger still coursing through his veins, Eric found his cheeks warming at Liam's insinuation. Almost all of the Charming and Jones clan knew about his feelings for Erin, and had for some time, but it never ceased to make him feel like a little boy whose crush had just been announced to a room full of people whenever those feelings were directly pointed out. Particularly when it was _also_ not a secret that Erin had yet to voice her own feelings about him.

"No, it's not Erin."

Liam tried, and failed, to keep the surprise from his face. "Who is it then?"

"It's—" Pausing for the span of a heart beat, Eric contemplated lying but decided honesty was the best way to go. After all, his dislike of Septimus was well known to Erin's family, even if they weren't aware of the real reason behind it. "I just spotted King Septimus in the crowd and it… caught me off guard."

Humming in understanding, Liam replied, "Well that makes sense. You've never liked him."

"Does _anyone_ like him?"

"Touche, but your dislike has always seemed… personal."

Knowing he had to tread lightly so as not to give anything away, Eric shrugged. "It would be personal to you too if you had to sit in those meetings when Wonderland and Stormhold were ironing out a peace treaty and listen to his corrupt council."

"I suppose it would. Uncle Will mentioned earlier that King Septimus has been pushing him and Ana to renegotiate the terms of the treaty over the last few months."

"Of course he has," Eric muttered in disdain.

Peace between Wonderland and Stormhold, the only other kingdom within their shared realm, had only been struck three years ago after a decade of unrest. Septimus viewed himself and his kingdom as superior to that of Wonderland and her rulers, even if Stormhold had fallen from its pinnacle of greatness the moment he assumed the throne. Strife and civil wars had broken out when Ana reclaimed her throne fourteen years prior and brought an end to Septimus' hold on Wonderland—an act the vain King of Stormhold couldn't tolerate. Eric wasn't surprised in the slightest that Septimus was already trying to undermine the delicate peace treaty to further his own agenda.

"I hope Will told him to fall into a deep pit of vipers with his renegotiations."

Liam chuckled. "It was more diplomatic, but yes."

"Good." Needing to talk about something that _wasn't_ Septimus, Eric added, "What was it you were trying to ask me about the retrieval before I spotted him?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if my sister hit you with a snowball."

Caught off guard by the random inquiry, Eric blinked in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"When you were in Narnia did Erin hit you, at any time, with a snowball? Particularly to the face?"

The mischief glint in Liam's blue eyes told him there was a reason behind the question, but for the life of him Eric couldn't fathom _what_ that reason might be. "Uh… she did, yeah."

"At what point in the trip did it happen?"

More confused than ever, Eric replied, "About three hours after we landed in Narnia. Why?"

The grin that had slowly been spreading across Liam's face since he asked the first question disappeared instantly at Eric's response. "Seriously?"

At Eric's nod, Liam groaned as if he'd just been asked to trek six hours through the forest. He was about to ask why Erin hitting him at an exact time with a snowball mattered when Liam grumbled, " _Bloody hell_. I suppose I owe Grandpa a hundred dubloons then."

 _And then it all made sense._ If there was one thing Eric had learned about the male members of the Jones and Charming families in his four years with them, it was that they liked to make bets on the oddest of things—normally in regards to how one of them would react to a certain thing.

"Liam… did you _really_ place a bet about when in the trip Erin would hit me with a snowball?"

"It was an uneventful week!" Liam defended, crossing his arms. "We had to do something to pass the time, and betting on when you would annoy Erin enough to warrant a snowball to the face seemed like an appropriate way to do that. Besides… we needed to distract ourselves from Grandma's tyrannical delegations when it came to planning my wedding."

"To which you lost—clearly."

"Everyone but Grandpa did."

" _Everyone?_ "

"Dad, Henry, Uncle Will and Robin were in on it too. Uncle Will even placed his bet via Jefferson since he wasn't going to arrive here until today."

Despite his initial surprise over the situation, Eric couldn't help but chuckle. Once upon a time, he might have felt ostracised or even picked on by their actions, but there had been a definite shift in his relationship with the members of Erin's family over the last six months. While they had never outright shunned him, he had very much been kept at arm's length by most of them— particularly Killian, David, and Will. He was an outsider, after all. Just a simple stranger that had become connected by chance to a woman they were all protective of. He was never part of the sporadic nights when the men gathered in David's study to drink and talk, or had a one-on-one conversation with Snow and Emma that didn't revolve around whatever was threatening the Charmings at that moment. Most of his interactions until the last few months had been with Erin and Liam, or Elizabeth. The warm welcome he had received when he entered the ballroom hours ago definitely wouldn't have happened before Maleficent's attack. Now, he not only did all those things, but had developed strong enough friendships with the men to be a part of a good-natured bet.

Things like _this_ were exactly why he couldn't go after Septimus.

"I can't believe you had me annoying your sister _over_ three hours after our arrival. That was bad gambling on your part, Lieutenant."

Huffing, Liam replied, "Yes, well… I was giving you the benefit of the doubt. Though to be fair, I did have it happening between eighteen and twenty-four hours."

"You forgot to factor in that your sister hates the cold almost as much as you hate foliage, didn't you?" Eric asked, unable to keep a smile from pulling at his own lips.

" _Clearly_." Liam started to say something else but paused, a thoughtful expression on his face as he glanced around at the guests that were within earshot of them. "What if you were to… fudge the details of when it happened?"

"You mean say it happened during your time table so _you_ win the bet and not your grandfather?"

"Aye. I'll split the reward with you."

Eric hummed thoughtfully, the index finger of his right hand rhythmically tapping the goblet in his hand as he contemplated the pros and cons of Liam's proposition. While he didn't _need_ the 300 dubloons he'd acquire if he accepted, Eric couldn't pass up such a golden opportunity to one-up Erin's father, grandfather, _and_ godfather.

Extending his hand towards Liam, he smiled. "Deal."

They had no sooner shaken hands and laughed over the entire matter when a flash of emerald caught Eric's attention. Turning his head in the direction of it, he saw Erin quickly making her way out of the ballroom and into the main part of the castle. It was odd for her to be leaving the ball, particularly since they were late in arriving, but what caused unease to settle low in his gut was the brief glance of her profile he caught as she glanced around to make sure her exit wasn't being observed.

 _Something had upset her._

Excusing himself to Liam with a half thought out reason as to why he was suddenly leaving, Eric made a beeline for the entrance to the ballroom, barely remembering to discard his half empty goblet on a butler's tray before leaving the room.

If he had looked back at any point, he would have seen Liam sharing a knowing look with Elizabeth before the couple followed him.

* * *

Leaving the crowded ballroom for the more secluded hallways of her home, it took every ounce of self control that Erin had not to wince with each step she took.

Normally she wore boots beneath her ball gowns—an act of childhood defiance that had carried over into adulthood—but she'd been unable to get away with it this time since her grandmother helped her get ready. Instead, she'd been forced to wear a pair of black heels that, while elegant and perfectly befitting her station, were absolutely uncomfortable. Her feet ached fiercely after hours of standing and dancing in them, and she wouldn't be one bit surprised to find a mark across both ankles from where the straps fastened. Erin didn't care if it broke every etiquette rule she'd been taught as a child—the torture devices were coming off and she refused to but them back on.

When she was certain she was far enough away from the ballroom so as not to be spotted by anyone, she quickly toed off the offending footwear. A sound of absolute bliss left her lips when her aching feet touched the cold marble flooring of the castle, and she mentally swore to every deity she could remember that she would never again allow her grandmother to be present when she was getting ready for a ball. Maneuvering the voluminous skirt of her dress out of the way, Erin picked up her heels and, ignoring the smirking guards who'd bore witness to her etiquette breaking antics, made her way to an area of the castle that only members of the royal family had access to.

Of all the wondrous and majestic designs that made up the place she had called home for her entire life, nothing compared to the cloister. Laying on the western side of the Charming castle, the courtyard garden was a breathtaking floral realm amidst a sea of stone—lush, green grass, towering willow trees, and dozens of snow belle bushes that always bloomed a perfectly white shade as spring turned to summer. Encircled by a covered walkway that had sweeping arches and a waist-high railing, its length was the size of three of her father's ships, and the absence of a roof only added to the sense that one was in a completely different world when they stepped into it. It was her favorite place to go within the confined space of the castle whenever she needed to get away from human interaction, or shut the outside world out, and after an evening of dancing and socializing, Erin desperately needed to do just that before she put Hope to bed.

She hummed in contentment as her bare feet moved across the cloister's soft grass. Her aching feet aside, the ball was going better than she had ever expected. The music was lively, Granny's cooking was spectacular—as it always was—and there hadn't been a single moment of drama to distract the guests from celebrating Liam and Elizabeth's engagement. Which, considering the number of royals that were in one room, was more than a little surprising to Erin. Not that she was going to question a lack of petty squabbling over treaties and whatever slight one crown felt another had done to it fifty years ago. The _only_ thing that mattered was Liam and Elizabeth's happiness, and from what she had been able to tell, her brother and best friend were enjoying themselves.

Passing beneath the low-hanging strands of one of the willow trees, she couldn't help but chuckle. She really had to hand it to the former bandit. They may joke about her tendency to go overboard when it came to things like this, but no one could throw a fully fledged royal event with more heads of state than the last coronation Erin had attended and make it feel intimate like Snow White could. She'd certainly managed to do the same thing with Erin and Matthew's engagement ball…

What mirth she had been feeling vanished in an instant with that thought, and Erin paused for the briefest of moments beside a snow belle bush that was just beginning to sprout buds before continuing on to her destination.

It wasn't the first time Matthew had crossed her mind that night…

* * *

" _Did you know Edwina hand stitched each of these buttons onto the back of your dress?"_

" _That's nice," Erin huffed, the reply more than likely muffled to her grandmother's ears considering Erin's body was inside her wardrobe from the waist up. The Queen of Misthaven just_ _ **had**_ _to insist that she wear the black heels with emeralds running along the top part, citing that they matched her dress perfectly and were more appropriate footwear for a ball than the leather boots Erin had tried to sneak on. Not that Erin completely understood her grandmother's logic. What did it matter if her shoes matched her dress when no one was going to even see the bloody things beneath it?_

" _Are you sure you didn't 'accidentally' lose them?"_

" _They were a gift from you and Grandpa. No matter how much I detested them, I wouldn't have thrown them away or given them to someone else."_

 _Erin could hear the playfulness in her grandmother's reply even from her position inside the wardrobe. "You would have just buried them at the bottom of your wardrobe until the end of time instead, right?"_

" _Well… yes." Moving yet another pair of boots out of her way, she continued, "I've never hidden my dislike for heels and you know that."_

 _Snow White's quiet_ _ **'hmmmm'**_ _had Erin rolling her eyes and thanking the god of fortune that her grandmother couldn't see the action. The truth was she wasn't completely sure they were still_ _ **in**_ _the bloody wardrobe. She hadn't laid eyes on the footwear in nearly five years—not since that winter ball the family had attended in Camelot—and though she knew she wouldn't have given them away, that didn't mean they were still where she had last seen them. She_ _ **did**_ _have a six year old who liked to borrow her things to play dress up._

 _Leaning further into the wardrobe, Erin huffed in annoyance. This endeavor would be going a lot quicker if she weren't wearing her ballgown. It was a beautiful dress, as all the royal seamstress' creations were, but it was rather cumbersome for hunting a lone pair of heels down in a large wardrobe. The voluminous skirt kept her from going too far into the wardrobe, and the off the shoulder style sleeves limited what movement she could make with her arms. Not to mention the corset she had to wear with it that dug into her every organ because of her kneeling position._

 _ **Maybe they are hidden somewhere in Hope's bedchamber**_ _, she thought as she tossed a pair of riding pants she hadn't worn in ten years to the other side of the wardrobe. Surely she would have stumbled upon them by now…_

 _As her right hand went to move an item of clothing out of the way, she was suddenly assaulted by the scent of freshly bloomed roses mixed with morning dew and honeysuckle. Erin instantly stilled when it overpowered her senses, and the running commentary her grandmother was giving behind her about the newly created dress faded beneath the sound of her own heartbeat._ _ **That was impossible.**_ _It was a scent as familiar to her as her father's, but one she hadn't smelled in a very long time. How could she? The man associated with it had been dead for six years._

 _Sitting back on her haunches, and ignoring her grandmother's chastisement about wrinkling her dress, Erin pulled the piece of linen out of the wardrobe with trembling hands. It was a simple shirt; the neckline low but modest, with long sleeves that ended in ruffles. The cloth that had once been a vibrant white was now colored with age from where it had sat unused at the bottom of her wardrobe for almost a decade. Even without the scent still attached to it she would have immediately known it belonged to him, and tears filled Erin's eyes as she gently cradled the fabric to her chest._

" _Erin?"_

 _At her grandmother's worried tone, Erin looked up at the other woman and sniffled._

" _It's—it's Matthew's shirt."_

* * *

Coming to the center of the cloister, Erin sat on the single stone bench that marked the otherwise perfect floral scenery and took a deep, cleansing breath.

After her grandmother comforted her—and found the sought after heels at the very back of the wardrobe beneath another pair of riding pants—Erin had composed herself and went down to the ball. She'd adamantly told herself from the moment she left her bedchamber that she wouldn't let finding one of Matthew's shirts affect her. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that she came across something of his, and celebrating Liam and Elizabeth's engagement was more important than allowing herself to wallow in a grief she had been dealing with for six years.

Grief and the peculiar way it worked, however, was a funny thing.

From the moment she stepped into the ballroom Erin had been reminded of her husband. They were small things—like a duke's jacket that was cut similarly to a style Matthew use to favor, his favorite appetizer, the waltz he use to hum to himself while getting ready in the morning—but they were as glaring to her as a lit candle in an otherwise dark room. No matter where she turned, or how hard she tried to ignore them, they were there. Random and mundane reminders that kept the grief she had quickly shoved down bubbling just beneath an already turbulent surface. Even now, sat in the seclusion of the cloister and surrounded by its beauty, she was reminded of him. It had been in another courtyard garden, that one filled with roses and dogwood trees, and on a night very similar to this one that Matthew had proposed to her. She could perfectly picture his nervous smile as he went down to one knee, and the way the moonlight had glinted off his grandmother's ring.

Sighing, Erin closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories. She should have known this would happen. Her father had told her shortly after Matthew's death that grief was not a linear process. It wasn't a road one traveled and then never walked down again—it was a winding, neverending path that doubled back on itself frequently, much like a maze. For every movement forward there was something laying somewhere along the way that would unexpectedly cause you to fall ten steps backward, and that's exactly what finding Matthew's shirt had done to her. Without his scent so fresh in her memory, she never would have picked up on the ordinary things that had reminded her of him all night long, or felt such a profound sense of loss when observing her father and Hope.

She always loved to watch them dance together. There was something about seeing her father effortlessly glide through the complicated steps of a waltz with her daughter in his arms that never failed to bring a smile to her lips. It reminded Erin of when he use to do the same thing with her—be it in a grand ballroom or on the deck of the Jolly Roger—and it made her love the unique bond between grandfather and granddaughter all the more.

Tonight, however, all she could see was what was missing.

It wasn't the first time she had ever thought about what Matthew wouldn't be a part of, but it was certainly the first time in a very long time that those thoughts had haunted her. He should have been there. He should have been standing beside Erin and watched as Hope's laughter filled the ballroom. More importantly, he should have been the one dancing with her. There was something special about having moments like that with a grandfather—Erin had had hundreds of similar ones with her own grandfather growing up—but there was something infinitely precious about having the memory of experiencing it with a father. Hope could never have that. She would never know what it was like to simply be twirled around a dance floor by her own father...

Just as she was about to become overwhelmed and break into tears for the second time in one night, a cool breeze blew through the cloister and brought with it a familiar scent that wasn't from the barely bloomed snow belles or willow trees. Her turbulent thoughts immediately ceased as she inhaled it, letting the welcoming fragrance wrap around her like a warm blanket and momentarily dull the sadness that had been eating at her all night. The distinctive sound of boots treading across grass reached Erin's ears as they got closer to where she sat, and without opening her eyes she spoke the name of the person who the scent belonged to.

"D'Harper."

The footsteps immediately came to a stuttered halt. "How did you know it was me?"

Opening her eyes, Erin turned her head to find Eric standing just a few feet away from her with a quizzical expression on his face.

"I've been on an untold number of retrievals with you over the last four years—I know how you walk," she lied. "What are you doing out here?"

"I saw you leave the ball early and just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Oh." She _had_ left the festivities rather abruptly when she could longer bear wearing her heels or seeing the reminders of Matthew. "No, everything's fine. I just needed to get away from people for a little while after rubbing elbows with them for so long… and give my poor feet a rest."

Chuckling, Eric nodded towards the heels she was still holding. "Not the most sensible form of footwear, are they?"

"Not in the slightest. Grandma _insisted_ I wear them because they matched my dress, even though no one saw the bloody things all night. Now my feet feel like I've done a week's worth of ship duties in four hours."

Eric winced in sympathy. "That sounds… awful."

"Perks of being a princess," she replied, the mock cheerfulness of her tone clearly indicating it was anything _but_ a perk.

"Well, if it will help, I can rub your feet. I have it on good authority from a princess of Misthaven that I give excellent foot massages."

Despite the sadness that was still lingering around her heart, Erin couldn't help but laugh at the memory his words evoked. The family had attended a day long ball in Camelot a few months prior that was in celebration of Arthur and Guinevere's daughter turning sixteen, and she had complained to Eric the entire time about her feet hurting thanks to another pair of torturous devices she had to wear. At the end of the night they had found their way to one of Arthur's drawing rooms—with more than one bottle of wine procured—and Eric had preceded to give her a foot massage at his insistence. It _had_ been excellent, and she might have drunkenly proclaimed him Knight of Massages with his own sword once they had worked their way through the four bottles of wine.

Not that her power to knight someone had any _legal_ standing, thankfully.

"The princess of Misthaven most _definitely_ sings your praises in that area, and would not object to another one. That is, if you're sure."

Eric smiled as he moved to sit next to her. "I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't, Jones."

Needing no further encouragement, Erin dropped her heels onto the grass and turned on the stone bench so that she was facing him. She'd barely placed her right foot in his lap when his thumb ran along its arch, causing her to moan in appreciation.

"Gods, you are good at that."

Eric chuckled but said nothing in return; instead focusing entirely on the task at hand. A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the nocturnal creatures that resided within the cloister and her own appreciative sounds, and Erin took the unguarded moment to study him. Light from the lanterns that lit the cloister's natural pathways around them danced across his sharp features, tinting the dark hair that fell across his forehead with auburn streaks and highlighting his cheekbones even as his jawline was thrown into shadows. The facial hair that he had left unattended during their retrieval was now neatly trimmed, and at some point—between coming after her and the last time she had seen him at the ball—he'd shed the formal jacket he'd been wearing, leaving him in a white shirt and the light gray vest that had initially distracted her.

It wasn't the first time Erin had ever seen him dressed for a ball, but there was something about that particular vest that had caused her breath to catch when Eric turned around after she had interrupted his conversation with her paternal figures. Even with his jacket on at the time she had been able to tell how well it fit—practically hugging his muscular torso and broad shoulders, while accentuating his trim waist in a way that had caused her to feel something she hadn't felt in a _very_ long time. It even complimented his eyes, making their green color more vivid than normal. She had never outwardly admitted it to him, and had rarely let herself internally say it, but Eric was a handsome man. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that, and tonight he had looked exceptionally striking. He'd often remarked about how well she cleaned up for events like this, but the truth was he could throw off the mantle of pirate and look the part of a wealthy royal just as nicely as she could.

"Jones?"

Pulled from her thoughts, Erin focused her attention on Eric's face to find him smiling at her. "Hm?"

"I've asked you a question twice now and you've continued to just stare at me."

"Oh." Her cheeks warmed at having been so caught up in studying him that she missed him speaking. _At least the darkness hides how red my face is,_ she thought. "I was just thinking about… things."

"Clearly."

Lightly digging her heel into his thigh at the playfully remark, she said, "What were you saying?"

"I asked if being done with people and needing to rest your feet were the real reasons you had come to your favorite spot."

She could hear the underlying remark in his tone— _"Only if you want to talk about it, Jones,"_ —and she couldn't help but smile. It didn't surprise her that Eric would offer his ear while at the same time assure her she didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to. What _did_ surprise her was that she wanted to tell him. Normally she only talked about her grief over Matthew's death with her father but, sitting in her favorite place within the castle with Eric and his scent still tickling her, the guard she normally had herself cloaked in was lowered.

"They really were part of it," she admitted. Leaning backwards so she could brace her hands on the edges of the bench, she continued, "But the larger reason was because I had been chased by a ghost all night."

"Matthew."

She should have been surprised that he had so easily guessed the answer behind her rather odd remark, but she wasn't.

"Yeah. I found one of his shirts when I was getting ready and it… it still smelled like him. I'm sure to the average person there wouldn't have been any scent remaining on it considering how long he's been gone, but—"

"—Because of your superpower, it hit you as if he'd just been wearing it."

Erin nodded. "I tried not to let it bother me, but the gods were working against me. All I saw tonight, wherever I looked, were things that reminded me of him."

Releasing the foot he had been working on, Eric tapped the knee of her left leg in a silent command. Erin wordlessly raised her leg from where it had been hanging off the side of the bench, and it wasn't until her left foot was in his lap that he spoke.

"When we're hit with the memory of someone or something that we lost, especially in such a vivid way like you were, it opens our subconscious to pick up on details we might have otherwise not noticed. It's perfectly natural that it happened."

"I know. It's not the first time I had to walk down that path, but it was still as emotionally draining as it was years ago when it happened right after his death. Especially since I was trying to hide the grief while being genuinely happy for Liam and Elizabeth."

Squeezing her foot in sympathy rather than to alleviate a physical pain, Eric replied, "I can only imagine. You know your brother and Elizabeth would have understood if you had forgone the ball and sequestered yourself in your bedchamber."

"They would have, but I wanted to be there for them." Erin made another sound of appreciation as his nimble fingers found a particularly sore spot on the ball of her foot. "Being reminded of Matthew so much tonight did cause an old fear that hasn't plagued me in years to rise back to the surface."

"How so?"

"When Matthew died, there were two things I constantly thought about: the fact that he would never meet Hope or be able to watch her grow up—which _destroyed_ me because he had been so excited for her arrival—and how not having a father would impact her. For the first year of her life, there were nights that the latter thought kept me awake more than my nightmares did. What kind of woman would she turn out to be without such a central figure? Would she feel like there was a hole in her life that I, no matter how hard I might try, could never fill? Was there going to be moments where she needed her father but all she had was me? Those thoughts still trouble me, but not as often as they once did. Then tonight... I was watching my dad and Hope dance, and it came back. All I could think about was what she was missing out on—how she'd never be able to experience dancing at a ball with her father, having him give her away when she gets married, or even the simple act of being _comforted_ by him…"

Before she could say another word, Eric was sliding closer to her on the bench until her feet were resting on the other side of his right thigh with the cradle of her knees directly over his lap. Reaching towards her with his left hand, he gently swiped along her cheek with his thumb, and it wasn't until he did so that Erin realised she was crying.

"That's a natural fear for anyone in your position to have," he murmured, his tone as reassuring as the continued movement of his thumb on her cheek was. "But—and I say this knowing full well it does nothing to truly quiet a mother's worry—she _won't_ miss out on any of that. Hope will never want for father figures between Killian, David, Will, and even your brothers. They will be there for the dances, to comfort her when she's scared or sick, and your father and grandfather will very likely have a duel to decide which one of them gets to walk her down the aisle."

A watery chuckle escaped Erin at that mental image. "I know they will be there for her, and that they love her unconditionally and would do anything in the world for her," she whispered, "But it… it's not the same. There are moments in my own life that I couldn't _imagine_ having gone through with anyone except Dad. It—it just wouldn't hold the same weight. Will she cherish the memory of dancing with my father? Of course, but there are certain things a person should experience with their father—not a grandfather, an uncle, or a family friend—and there's nothing I can do to change it."

There was a flash of sadness in Eric's eyes at her words, and he seemed to be battling with something internally for a long moment before he finally spoke.

"No, having someone else in the place of where a parent should be isn't the same as having the parent there. I can tell you from personal experience, however, that as long as there is _someone_ standing next to Hope in those moments, she won't look back on them with pure sadness. A part of her will always wish her father could have been there, but at the end of the day, it won't take away from the happiness the memory brings her."

Erin's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Personal experience?"

"Aye." Dropping his hand from her cheek, Eric moved back to an upright sitting position. "My parents were murdered when I was eight."

She didn't know what she had been expecting, but that certainly wasn't it. At the shocked expression on her face, he smiled sadly. "Bit of a bombshell to drop on you, isn't it?"

"A little."

It was true she knew very little about Eric's life before he became a pirate, but she respected the fact that some people had things happen to them that wasn't easy to divulge to others. Erin certainly kept things close to her vest. It had taken a long time for her to even _hint_ about Matthew to him, and there were still things—like her need to protect him and the way her nightmares had changed—that Eric wasn't aware of. He _had_ told her that he'd began pirating when he was sixteen, and that he had done so as a means to survive, but she had just assumed he never talked about his parents because he'd ran away for some reason. Not that they had been murdered...

Genuinely at a loss for words for only the fifth time in her twenty-seven years, Erin said the only thing that came to mind. "I'm so sorry, Eric."

"It's alright, Jones. It happened a long time ago."

"Wounds that are made when you're young tend to linger," she murmured, reciting the very words her father had once said to her and Liam when trying to explain why the crack of a whip unnerved him. Leaning forward, she swung her legs out of his lap so they were sitting side by side, the size of the bench leaving almost no space between them.

"How did it—what happened?"

"Thieves. They broke into our home one night and… Well, they may have entered as simple thieves looking for a quick haul, but they left as cold-blooded murderers." Eric's gaze fell to the grass that lay beneath their feet, and she watched him swallow thickly in the lanterns' flickering light. "They were stabbed to death. No one was spared—not my parents, my aunt, or my grandmother. I was the only one who escaped that fate."

"Because you weren't there?"

Erin's stomach took a sickening turn when he shook his head. "No, I was. I was sound asleep when they entered, and would have likely slept through my own death if it weren't for my mother. She somehow fought off one of the attackers and, despite being mortally wounded in the tussle, made it to my bedchamber where she helped me escape. An old friend of the family who lived close by happened to be returning home from traveling and intercepted me mere moments after I fled, but Gods… It felt like an eternity passed between the last time I saw my mother and when I ran into him."

As Eric fell silent, Erin found herself blinking back tears. She couldn't even begin to imagine what that ordeal must have been like for him. She had certainly felt despair and loss when her mother was trapped beneath the physical mingling of the Savior and Ingrid's magic, but Erin had at least known she was still _alive_ within the icy tomb. Having to say goodbye to the woman who loved you most in the world, and knowing it was final… It was unfathomable to her, and it made her heart ache all the more at the image of a young Eric running through the darkened streets of some unknown city—the lone survivor of senseless massacre.

"What happened afterward? Were the thieves ever caught?"

"Those responsible were never brought to justice, no. Once the dust settled, that same friend took me in and raised me as his own until I was sixteen."

The mention of that particular age made Erin's brows furrow in thought. "Sixteen… when you went into pirating?" At his nod, the furrow only deepend. "I thought you had to do that in order to survive. Did something happen to the family friend?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. What I neglected to mention was the fact that my needing to survive was my _own_ doing." Eric chuckled humorlessly. "I thought I knew everything at that age, and with what had happened to me when I was younger, I had a fairly large chip on my shoulder. The family friend did his best to help me but I was having none of it at that point in time. We fought constantly in the year proceeding my sixteenth birthday, and I eventually ran away with nothing more than a hastily thrown together pack. Which, as I'm sure you can imagine, was not the best of plans. A week after barely having any food, and no prospects to earn money for it, I joined the first ship that would take me. The rest is history."

"Did you ever see him again?"

"Eventually. Time—along with the wisdom that naturally comes with age—fixed that chip on my shoulder, and I mended the bridge between us." Grasping her right hand in his left, Eric smiled softly. "I wanted to tell you this so that you could believe me when I said that, while there were many, many things my parents weren't able to be there for while I was growing up, their absence in those moments isn't what I remember. I remember the man who raised me being there. I remember him tucking me in, treating my scrapes and cuts, and beaming with pride when I accomplished something. No one can ever truly replace the hole that is Matthew's absence in Hope's life, but when she looks back on nights like tonight, she's not going to remember him being absent for a dance, Erin. All she's going to remember is the pure joy she felt at having the experience with her grandfather."

Nodding, Erin took a deep breath. Worrying about how Hope's life would be shaped by not having her father around would never fully go away. That was evident by the events over the last few hours, but knowing someone else had experienced a similar situation to her daughter, and that they didn't feel like they had missed out anything, momentarily eased the fear that had resurfaced.

"Thank you for telling me, Eric. I know that couldn't have been easy for you."

"If it eased your fears even the slightest bit, it was worth it."

"Would you—if Hope ever voices the need to talk about it, or I feel like she should, would you mind being the one I send her to?"

Eric's eyes widened in surprise at the question. "I'd be honored to, but wouldn't you prefer for her to see your brother instead?"

"My brother?"

"Henry. Surely you've made the connection before now, Jones."

At her blank stare, his eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "Erin… your brother has experienced the same thing. He lost his father at a young age, and Killian has been there for some very crucial moments in his life where Neal should have been. Have you never realised this?"

Erin opened her mouth to offer a rebuttal but found herself at a loss for words for the second time in one evening. She had never made the connection between her older brother and daughter's similar experiences because to Erin, Henry still _had_ a father. Two, in fact: Robin and her own father. Logically she knew her dad and Henry didn't share the same blood—and had known that since she was four—but emotionally she saw him no differently than she did Liam, and that stemmed from how her father treated him. In almost twenty-eight years, Erin had never once heard her father use the term 'half-brother' when it came to him. Henry Mills had always been nothing less than a full blooded son to Killian Jones. She'd watched her dad worry about him, celebrate his achievements, love him unconditionally, and discipline him with the same level of intensity that he had for Erin and Liam. Whenever he talked about his children, it was the _three_ of them—never just two—and her father was always the first person to point out the birth order of his grandchildren.

" _Hope is my first granddaughter, aye, but my_ _ **third**_ _grandchild. Bae and Jefferson made me a grandfather long before she did."_

"I honestly didn't realize it," she murmured, her head spinning as she tried to sort this new knowledge into her worldview. "He's… Henry has always been Dad's son as much as Liam is."

"Which lends even more weight to what I was saying. Do _you_ believe your brother feels like he's missed out by having Killian in certain memories instead of his biological father?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why would you think Hope would, considering Killian is fulfilling the same role in her life?"

That was definitely a question she would spend more than a few nights pondering. "Fair point. I'd still like Hope to talk with you, as well as Henry, if she needs to though."

"I'll be of service if the occasion ever arises," Eric promised, giving her right hand another supportive squeeze before releasing it. "How are your feet feeling?"

It was a rather odd question to ask after their deep conversation, but it was very much an Eric thing to do. Since the day they had met in that little seaside tavern, he'd always had an uncanny knack for knowing how to make her feel less exposed after an emotional outpouring.

" _Much_ better, actually. I think I may survive the trip back to the ballroom and the ensuing wrestling match that will occur when I try to drag Hope to bed. Thank you, by the way, for the foot rub."

"My pleasure as always, Jones."

Throwing him a grateful smile, Erin picked up her discarded heels and stood, plans on how she was going to get Hope away from the festivities without inducing a meltdown already running through her mind. She'd only taken a few steps, however, when Eric spoke again.

"Jones?

Turning back towards him, she saw that he had stood from the bench and seemed torn between staying where he was and moving closer to her.

"Yeah?"

"I've wanted to ask you something all night and I—well..." Trailing off, Eric seemed to be working up the courage to finish his sentence. Just as Erin was about to ask him what it was—and tease him about being so nervous to ask her about anything—he squared his shoulders and closed the gap between them until he was no more than a few feet in front of her. Holding out his left hand, he continued, "I was wondering if you'd dance with me."

 _Oh._ Of all the things he could have asked her, she certainly hadn't been expecting that.

"A… dance?"

"Aye."

Swallowing thickly, Erin's eyes darted down to his outstretched hand. To anyone else it would be such a simple request, but to her it was as if he had just asked her to take a blind leap of faith over a yawning chasm. While she loved to dance, Erin hadn't done so with a non-family member since Matthew's passing. It was too intimate of an activity to do with anyone that didn't share her blood or some form of familial tie. While her first instinct was to decline and run as far away from the situation as she could, Erin was surprised to find herself ignoring that voice for the second time in less than an hour.

Yes, it would be intimate… but so what? It wouldn't exactly be the first intimate thing they had done together. He _had_ just given her a foot massage, and it wasn't even the first time that had happened. How often had he carried her to her bedchamber or whatever room she was staying in at an inn when she had imbibed far too much rum? How many times had they sat on the deck of one of their ships, the stars twinkling above them and a flask of rum passed between them as she told him about Matthew? Even on the retrieval they just returned from, there had been an intimate moment. After the second day of observing the guard patrols, they had huddled on Eric's small bed beneath a mountain of blankets and their winter cloaks—trying desperately to get warm as the coal stove sputtered to life with a flick of her wrist.

Would dancing with him _really_ be all that different than those other moments?

Taking a deep breath, she made her decision.

* * *

"Damn these insufferable monsters to the nine hells!"

"Liam, it's the branches of a willow tree. I don't think they're trying to attack you, kid."

"Ow! Dad, you stepped on my foot!"

"Sorry, Liz."

"Scarlet, there is an entire bloody walkway that you can stand on. Shove over."

"This is the only place where those damnable trees don't obscure the view! _You_ bugger over."

"I will not! She's my daughter."

"Oi! She's _my_ goddaughter!"

" _Will_ the two of you lower your voices?" Emma hissed as she attempted to disentangle a willow branch from Liam's uniform jacket before her son could draw his sword against the innocent tree. "If you keep that up Erin is going to hear you!"

The thought of Erin discovering them spying on her immediately silenced Killian and Will's bickering, though it didn't stop them from good naturedly shoving each other which earned the two men an exasperated eye roll from Elizabeth. _It wasn't like they had_ _ **intended**_ _to spy on Erin and Eric,_ Killian thought, though he knew his daughter well enough to know the semantics of the situation wouldn't matter to her. Spying was spying, after all.

He had been talking to Princess Jasmine—a feat made much easier this time around since he wasn't a bloody cat—when he saw Erin leave the ballroom. There was something about her hurried pace and the way she was holding herself that screamed at his paternal instincts, and after quickly excusing himself from the conversation, Killian had left via the courtyard door so as to not draw attention to their abrupt departures. He didn't even have to think about what direction to walk in. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Erin would go to the cloister if something was troubling her. Upon reaching the courtyard garden through its western entrance, he had come to a surprised halt at finding Will already there. Apparently the White King had been in the process of returning to the ball from a trip to the privy when he'd seen Erin making her way outside rather than towards the family wing. Ever the dutiful godfather, he had followed her to make sure everything was alright. Before either man could move to check on her, however, Eric had appeared.

That was when Emma had shown up, only a few minutes behind Killian. She had seen her husband's hasty departure from across the ballroom and, worried that something had happened, followed him. Using the darkness of the covered walkway to hide their movements as they made their way around to where everyone else was, Liam and Elizabeth had arrived right as Eric began rubbing Erin's foot. The couple, curious as to what had made Eric exit his conversation with Liam so suddenly, had trailed the young pirate without knowing that he was doing the same to Erin. The group had been about to disperse back to the ball, leaving the princess and Eric to their privacy, when they had heard Eric say Matthew's name.

That alone hadn't given them pause. What had frozen them in place was Erin's response as she explained about finding Matthew's shirt earlier in the evening.

Sharing similar looks of surprise, they had abandoned going back to the ball without a word spoken between any of them and crowded around the small opening in the pathway that wasn't obscured by a giant willow tree. They shouldn't have, of course, but Erin opening up to Eric about her late husband was a monumental moment. She _never_ talked about the grief that had followed Matthew's death to anyone but Killian. Although, he had no idea about her fear of Hope one day looking back on memories with sadness because Matthew wasn't a part of them. So there was clearly things she hadn't voiced even to him…

There had been surprising moments with Eric as well. Killian was certain none of them had even breathed as the young pirate revealed what had happened to his parents…

"Guys… _they're dancing._ "

Pulled from his thoughts, Killian's head snapped up along with everyone else's in comical unison at Elizabeth's comment, and they all stared in amazement at the sight of Erin and Eric moving through the unmistakable steps of a waltz.

"Well, I'll be damned," Will murmured, and Killian nodded in wordless agreement.

Erin dancing wasn't an abnormal sight by any means. She loved to dance, and had been doing it from the time she was a toddler—her unsteady feet resting atop Killian's boots, and her small fingers gripping his hand and hook with absolute trust as he carefully moved them around a room. But Erin hadn't danced with anyone except a family member since Matthew's death… until now.

"Stupid willow tree blocking my view," Emma muttered as the waltz—which Killian was certain was a Glowerhaven variation—took Erin and Eric further down the cloister. Still able to perfectly see the couple without an obstruction, and not wanting his wife to miss a single moment of this momentous occasion, Killian stepped backwards and gently pulled Emma into the vacated space in front of him.

Resting his hand and hook at her waist, he kissed the side of her head. "Better, Swan?"

"Perfect," she replied, throwing him a grateful smile over her shoulder before turning her attention back to their daughter.

"I can't believe she's finally let her walls down."

"Not quite, Scarlet."

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Liam turned his head towards his father. "She's dancing with him, Dad. Alone, I might add, in an extremely romantic setting. Coupled with what we heard, how is this _not_ Erin lowering her walls?"

"You sister has most certainly lowered _a_ wall, but that doesn't mean she's lowered every one that she has." Inclining his head to indicate the woman standing in front of him, Killian added, "Not all of your mother's walls came down at once."

"Your father's right. It didn't happen with me over night, and it certainly won't with Erin. Talking to Eric about Matthew and dancing with him _is_ a huge step for her. Though, in the grand picture of their relationship, it's only a baby step."

Straightening up from where he had been leaning over the railing to still see, Will sighed heavily. "She's going to pull away emotionally, isn't she?"

"Aye." Eric suddenly dipped Erin beneath the branches of a willow tree, and Killian smiled as Erin's carefree laughter filled the night air. "The important thing is that she let it happen to begin with. She'll try to move backwards, but the destruction of one wall always leads to the destruction of another, and one day there won't be any more walls that Eric has to break through."

"What do you suppose made her lower them enough to allow this?"

Elizabeth's question had Killian tilting his head in thought as his eyes tracked the dancing couple. Even though this was something he had been praying for since Maleficent crushed Matthew's heart and made Erin a guarded individual, it _was_ a rather abrupt development. A week ago he would have been certain his daughter would rather walk the plank than willingly allow a moment like this to pass between her and Eric, and nothing that he was aware of had happened in that time frame to warrant Erin lowering one of her walls. So when could something have possibly occurred….

And then it hit him like a piece of rigging coming loose in a storm— _the retrieval._

He had noticed the look on Erin's face earlier in the evening when David mentioned the men talking about the incidents on the retrieval. It was brief, a blink and you'd miss it widening of the eyes and stillness of her body, but Killian had caught it. Something actually _had_ happened on the retrieval that his daughter didn't want them to know about. Eric's own body language, and the way he had interjected a response so Erin didn't unknowingly reveal something, had only confirmed Killian's suspicion at the time.

"The retrieval." He felt rather than heard Emma's quick intake of breath with her back pressed against his front, and his hand flexed where it lay on her hip. He'd told her about his suspicion the first free moment they had together at the ball, and she had clearly put that piece together with the current subject matter at his words. "Earlier… I was certain they were hiding an incident that had happened on the retrieval because of the way they reacted to something David said."

"I noticed that as well," Will admitted. "Erin recovered well, but it was plain as day to anyone who knows her."

Frowning, Liam glanced between his parents. "But _what_ could have happened? Are we saying something… romantic occurred between them while they were going after the scepter?"

Killian tried to _not_ imagine what kind of romantic moment could have passed between his daughter and Eric as Emma hummed in thought. "Well, that's definitely something she wouldn't want your father, Uncle Will, or grandpa to know about… even though their days of threatening Eric with bodily harm are over."

"They are?" Killian and Will asked in unison, and Killian knew without even having to see her face that it had caused Emma to roll her eyes.

"I don't think it was anything romantic."

Four pairs of eyes turned to Elizabeth. "What makes you say that?"

"Because that's not how it was with your parents," she replied before looking at Emma. "When you allowed yourself to admit there was something between you and Uncle Killian, what was it after?"

"Our time travel adventure."

"What happened that made you more receptive to not rebuking his affection for you?"

"I—" Glancing at Killian over her right shoulder, Emma's brow furrowed. "I suppose it was the ice wall incident."

"And what was it that eventually gave you the push to admit you loved him?"

Will chuckled. "I'm sensing a pattern here."

Ignoring the former knave's remark, Emma replied, "Maleficent putting him under a sleeping curse."

"Exactly." Gesturing to where her best-friend and Eric were still dancing, Elizabeth said, "Lowering long standing, emotional walls doesn't happen during a joyous event. It comes after you've been confronted with a traumatic event."

"I wouldn't exactly call our time travel adventure _traumatic_ , lass."

"Well, no, but it _was_ life threatening. If you and Aunt Emma hadn't fixed her parents' timeline, she would have ceased to exist."

Liam shook his head in confusion. "Are you saying that… something life-threatening happened to Erin and that's what made her allow this moment to happen?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

Sighing, Killian let his forehead rest on the back of Emma's head next to her ponytail. _Of course it was that._ What Elizabeth was saying made perfect sense not only because it was human nature, but because he knew putting herself in dangerous situations wasn't a far-flung reality for his daughter. Erin was fearless, had been since she was a little girl, and that had unfortunately carried over into adulthood. She was very much an act then think person—a trait he would proclaim until his dying breath that she got from her mother. Most, if not all, all of the gray in his hair was due to Erin's impulsive, life threatening ideas in the heat of a moment.

"The fact that that confirms the fears I had of something happening to her aside, why would she try to hide that from Dad?" Liam asked his fiance. "Or Uncle Will and Grandpa? She knows that they are more than aware of her tendency to not think an action through first. That was, after all, one of the reasons Dad had me go with her on _our_ time travel adventure."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Sometimes the last person that we want to talk to about something that's happened to us is the person that knows us the best, even if we know they already are aware of it."

While Liam, Elizabeth, and Will went back and forth debating that subject matter, none of them noticed the fact that Emma and Killian had fallen silent, too lost in their own thoughts to contribute to the conversation yet hyper aware of each other's presence. Elizabeth's words, while meant for their daughter, touched perfectly on the situation they found themselves in because of Emma's nightmares. He knew she was having them, and she knew that he knew, yet neither were admitting to the other the knowledge they had. It was an endless cycle of worried glances and guilt-ridden smiles, both of which were poorly concealed from the other party.

Long ago, before he had accepted that she trusted and loved him, the act of Emma keeping her nightmares a secret would have sent him down a dark path of self-loathing and made him question if she truly trusted him. Thirty years of marriage, however, ensured that those thoughts never entered his head. He knew Emma loved him, and that she trusted him—he just wished she'd accept the fact this wasn't something she could work out on her own. Pressing his nose into her hair and inhaling the familiar scent of cinnamon, Killian sighed. _It would all be fine._ When the excitement over Liam's engagement ball died down, and Erin had settled back in after being on an extended retrieval, he'd gather their three children together and talk to them.

He may not be the person Emma needed to confide in but surely one, if not all of their children, were what she needed to overcome this hurdle.

"Mom? Dad?"

Raising his head, Killian looked to find Liam watching him closely. "Sorry, lad. What were you saying?"

"Uncle Will suggested we go back to the ball since being away for too long—particularly me and Elizabeth—might cause people to ask questions. Do you want to walk back with us or stay here?"

Before he could respond, Emma turned in his arms, resting her hands along the labels of his formal greatcoat as she spoke to their son. "Actually, I think I'm going to call it a night. Hope sleeping in our bed for the past few days hasn't been the most conductive to restful nights. If that's okay with you, kid."

Liam nodded. "Of course, Mom. I've had Hope climb into my bed before when Erin and the two of you were gone—she's an all elbows and knees octopus, so I know the pain."

"More like a tiny kraken," Killian muttered, which caused his son to chuckle.

"That too."

After saying good-night to everyone, Killian waited until the other three had left before raising an eyebrow at his wife.

"Is that truly the reason you want to retire, Swan, or are your feet protesting what you and our daughter term those torture devices?"

Emma laughed, the sound just quiet enough to keep their presence in the cloister hidden from their still dancing daughter. "I mean, Hope isn't exactly the _easiest_ person to share a sleeping space with, but you know me all too well, Captain. My feet are, in fact, protesting being in these heels."

"Would a bath help ease them? I believe we still have that scented oil we procured on our last trip to Rivendale that aids in aching muscles."

"I think that's a _wonderful_ idea, so long as my handsome husband promises to join me in said bath."

Pulling her forward until their chests were flush, he grinned. "Far be it for me to deny a request like that from a beautiful woman."

Ignoring her eye roll at his flowery language, Killian captured her lips in a quick kiss that held the promise of _more_ before offering his arm to her. As they turned to leave, Killian took one last look at his daughter and Eric still dancing in the moonlight, and smiled.

* * *

Looking into the water that had been turned into a mirror, the young prince saw women and men dressed in formal attire, their brightly colored gowns and finely pressed coats reminding him of how he had spent most of his childhood. The view shifted among the couples, and he caught sight of the floor they were waltzing on—the gold and black checkered floor as familiar to him as the ornate flower design that covered the ballroom floor of his ancestral home. It was clearly a ball of some sort and he quickly scanned the faces of those in attendance. He recognized a lot of the neighboring royals, some he had known personally and others he had only met once or twice, but none of the family he had married into.

The mirror shifted focus then, moving from the view of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere happily dancing to a lone man, and tears instantly sprang to his eyes.

It wasn't the unmistakable figure dressed in a black greatcoat that had him leaning further over the fountain, but the little girl in his arms that looked every inch the princess she was born to be. She was dressed in a light pink gown and her raven locks, adorned with her great-grandmother's tiara, fell in gentle curls around her cherubic face. They were dancing to a tune he couldn't hear, the man whose left arm the little girl rested on expertly maneuvering them around the dancing couples in a waltz he himself hadn't done in years. Unbridled excitement shone from her blue eyes, and his heart swelled with contentment at the sight.

She was healthy, and more importantly, _happy_. Her familial features were also even more undeniable than they were the previous year—her mother's chin, her great-grandmother's nose, his own mother's smile, and the slightly pointed ears of the man she danced with. She was beautiful, the perfect combination of their families, and a lone tear fell down his cheek. He would never be able to meet her or play a part in the woman she would become, nor would he ever hold her and share in her laughter.

That was the cost of ensuring she lived, however, and he'd rather mourn those losses than live in a world where she didn't exist.

The image of his smiling daughter blurred momentarily, and when it cleared he saw the inside of a cloister that was as familiar to him as the ballroom had been. At first there was only the image of willow trees and snowbelle bushes just beginning to bloom, and then _she_ came into view—all blonde hair and clothed in a green dress that made her eyes shine all the brighter. She was dancing with someone he didn't know, or had never met before his abrupt departure, but was someone he had seen in the background the last three times he had been given his yearly reward. His focus was only her, though. Her features were delicate and sharp, much like he envisioned the little girl's would be in twenty years, and the young prince noted the woman looked like her own mother's twin now more than she ever had before. She had always been gorgeous to him, of course. Even when they were nothing more than children running through the halls of each other's homes he had thought her beautiful, and time away from her hadn't dulled that.

This was what he waited every year in this eternal place for, the brief glimpse of his wife and child that the Goddess beside him had decreed he deserved to see. In paradise _this_ was his peace, seeing with his own eyes that they were still alive and living their lives even if he was no longer a part of it. The young prince's first look at them six years ago had been shortly after the little girl's birth, sadness and joy filling him as he watched his wife cradle their newborn daughter in the nursery they had spent months preparing, the lullaby she sung the very one his own mother use to sing to him and his brother. He had missed so much of his child's life, only able to look upon her once a year to chart her growth, and his wife… For six years he hadn't been there—to hold her, to see her smile, hear her laughter, or tell her he loved her—but they were both alive, and that was all that mattered to him.

The dark haired man suddenly dipped her and, although no sound came from the fountain, he could hear her unbridled laughter echoing in his mind. They resumed dancing, and as he watched them expertly move about the cloister, his wife's eyes told the young prince everything he needed to know. She was in love with him. Whether she had verbalized that fact remained to be seen, but he had been on the receiving end of that look more times than he could count and knew it when he saw it. Jealousy never flared within his chest at the realization, though, even when it was clear his wife's feelings were reciprocated by the way he looked at her. He had been gone for six years and could never return to them—his place was here now, and hers was in a world he couldn't reach, even with all the wishes he could make. This was what he wanted. He wanted them to _live_ , to find happiness even if he wasn't a part of it, and for the woman he would love for all eternity to find love again. If the man could make her smile and laugh like that, how could he ever be jealous of him?

The image of his wife suddenly disappeared, the mirror-like surface returning to the still water that showed him nothing but his own reflection. Blinking rapidly, he looked to the Goddess that still stood beside the fountain.

"Thank you, Persephone," he whispered gratefully to the Queen of the Underworld.

"They are well, young prince," the Goddess assured him. "They are full of life and the endless possibility to love. I hope this continues to bring you peace."

"It does. Thank you, as always."

Bowing his head, the young prince turned and made his way from the clearing. Following the path back to the edge of the forest, he was not surprised to find a brunette man waiting for him, his own horse grazing beside the one he had left. As the young prince stepped from the forest and into his view, the other man jogged to him.

"Are they okay?" he asked, worry evident in his tone. While their yearly rewards were seen as a blessing, an unspoken fear of what they'd see, or not see, was never far from any of their minds.

"They're happy," he reported, smiling despite the flicker of sadness that always ran through him after he had seen his loved ones. The man clapped him on the back enthusiastically at the news, a grin spreading on his own face and brown eyes bright with happiness for the young prince.

"Is your wife still as beautiful as you remember her to be?"

"More beautiful than Aphrodite herself."

The man chuckled. "And your daughter? How is she?"

"As beautiful as her mother, and seemingly healthy, which is the best thing I could ask for."

Before he could ask another question, the man looked towards the forest that the young prince had just come from.

"It's my turn."

"I'll await your return," the young prince promised, watching as the other man made his way down the same path he had went. Like everyone in this realm, he was given this reward before Persephone made her yearly trip back to the world of Man, and he knew it gave him even more peace than it did him. The other man had been here far longer than he had, and those six years felt like an eternity—he couldn't imagine what thirty years was like. Once he had disappeared into the forest, the young prince turned and looked out over the rolling hills of Elysium, the images he had seen in the fountain bringing a smile to his face.

Erin and their child were alive and happy, and that was the only peace Matthew needed within the blessed realm of the Underworld.


	7. Chapter 6: Promises Whispered

**Hey, IT HASN'T BEEN SIX MONTHS SINCE I LAST UPDATED! There are miracles! Many thanks to spartanguard and always-been-a-pirate for their beta services, and distant-rose for being an awesome sounding board!**

 **As always, enjoy, and reviews keep the muse going!**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Promises Whispered in the Dark of Night**

* * *

"I need to tell you something."

Glancing into the mirror above her vanity table, Elizabeth studied her fiance's reflection as she continued to brush the last few tangles from her long hair. Liam was bare from the waist up and already in their bed, his back resting against the ornately carved headboard with the thick blanket they used to ward off the chill that continued to cling to the late witching hours this time of year pooled at his waist. His eyes were fixed on a closed book in his lap—some nautical adventure about pirates and krakens he'd borrowed from her mother—and, though she could only see his profile, there was no missing the aggravated way his jaw clenched or the tight set to his shoulders. She wasn't sure what she had expected to find when his hesitant tone had interrupted her soft humming, but the anxious look that marred his handsome features certainly hadn't been it.

"Tell me what?"

Not moving his gaze from the book, Liam cleared his throat. "I… I almost decided something without consulting you that pertained to our wedding."

The disparity in his tone had Elizabeth pausing her movements with the ivory-handled brush mid-way through a downward stroke. Things had become overly hectic for them in the last few weeks, what with her trying to plan the last month of her tutoring lessons and him still being on duty for the Royal Navy amidst daily War Council meetings over Maleficent. It had forced them to make a number of decisions about the wedding without the other one present, but she couldn't recall anything he would have decided being brought up at her last sit down with Snow that would warrant him being nervous.

"Well, it can't be _that_ bad—"

"Oh, but it is, and if I know you as well as I think I do, you're going to be furious I even considered it."

Frowning in confusion, Elizabeth turned in her chair so she could talk to him rather than his reflection. "Liam, what is it?"

He didn't answer her right away, instead focusing on picking at the frayed book cover. She was about to remind him that her mother would absolutely make him organize the library even at twenty-seven if he didn't stop doing that, nervous tick or not, when Liam finally looked at her.

"I almost postponed the wedding."

Blinking in surprise, the only thing she found herself able to do was to stare at her fiance. After all, what did one say to something like that?

"Not because I was getting cold feet," he quickly added, his blue eyes begging her to understand something he hadn't yet voiced. "It was… I was just being foolish in my thought process over something. I swear to you though, Elizabeth, it wasn't because I didn't want to go through with it."

More confused than ever—but knowing he was at least being genuine when he said it had nothing to do with his desire to get married—Elizabeth placed her hair brush on the vanity and made her way across the room. She didn't miss the apprehensive way his eyes followed her movements, or the slight twitch in his right hand when she sat down on her side of the bed, as if he wanted to reach for her but had thought better of doing so.

"Liam, what's going on?" she whispered. "If you still want to get married, why would you be thinking about postponing our wedding?"

"To ensure we find a way to defeat Maleficent, but more importantly for your safety."

It was the last thing she had expected to hear as far as a reason for postponing a wedding was concerned, but Elizabeth stayed silent and listened while Liam continued on. It was somewhere between Avalonian artifacts and the way Maleficent operated that she finally understood what had happened, and she had to fight to keep a smile off her face. _Of course he would._ She'd known Liam her entire life, and had been well aware of his tendency to focus on things he couldn't change until he was consumed by it long before she had ever looked at him as more than her best friend's brother.

When he was finished, and looking at her like he was expecting her to bring the wrath of Zeus down on his head, Elizabeth chuckled to herself.

"You're an adorable git, you know that?"

Liam hadn't been expecting that reaction from her if his raised eyebrows were any indication.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me—an adorable git. Or adorable fool to use your own word against you."

" _Adorable_ fool." At her simple nod, the perplexed look on his face only deepened. "I tell you that I was going to postpone our wedding—though I had very good reasons to do so—without consulting you on the matter and you… you call my actions _adorable_?"

"I do. What else am I supposed to call them?"

"Idiotic, presumptuous, rash—take your pick."

"Well, as _you_ pointed out, the reasons you had for postponing the wedding were good ones, which negates all those adjectives." Moving until she was sat next to him and mirroring his position of having her back pressed against their headboard, she added, "Besides, you _didn't_ postpone the wedding in the end."

"Only because Mom and Dad talked some sense into me," Liam pointed out, still clearly trying to wrap his head around the way she had responded to his big confession. "Though, in all fairness to Mom, she was the one that finally got me to see the error of my thinking."

Elizabeth hummed thoughtfully. "Makes sense since you got the 'worry until it consumes your ever waking thought' thing from her."

Before she could even blink, the muscle in his jaw began ticking even harder than before. "Bloody hell, does _everyone_ know that I do this?" he groused, his gaze sweeping across their bedchamber as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Instinct and nearly twenty-eight years of being around him told Elizabeth that he was irritated not at her, but with himself. She could practically see the brooding shadow start to fall over his face, and Elizabeth reached for his hand that was now aggressively pulling at the frayed book cover. Although her mother really was going to have his head for that, the physical state of some adventure book was the last thing on her mind as she entwined the fingers of her left hand with his right one.

"Hey… This is _nothing_ to be ashamed of. Do you remember what I told you tonight at the ball before Erin arrived? _Worrying about those you love is what makes you who you are._ That's still true, just as the color of your eyes or your intense hatred for anything that looks like it came from the forest does. You can't change either of those things and, though you certainly can work at not letting the worry eat you alive, you can't change that it's the first thing you do."

"It's still a rather annoying personality trait to chain yourself to with marriage for the rest of your life," he muttered as his head fell to the headboard with an audible _thunk_.

"I'd rather chain myself to someone who's going to worry _too_ much about my safety than someone who doesn't even care." Hoping to lighten the mood, she bumped his shoulder with her own. "Besides, aren't you marrying me even though I have a sickeningly optimistic view of the world?"

It seemed to do the trick as the tension that had been in his shoulders since he started this conversation disappeared. Chuckling, Liam turned his head towards her. "I love that you always try to find the positive of a situation, even when its bleak."

"And I love that you worry about things you can't control," she said with a small smile. "Without it you wouldn't be _my_ Liam, just as I wouldn't be your Elizabeth if I didn't grasp at the silver lining of every situation. So no more feeling ashamed about how you are, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied, using his best 'royal' voice and laughing when she swatted at his shoulder with her free hand. "Does this mean you aren't mad at me for lying to you and almost postponing our wedding without consulting you?"

Tilting her head, Elizabeth gave his question a long and thorough moment of thought. She _should_ be angry at him—most women in her position would have been—but the truth was she couldn't find an ounce of the emotion inside her. Maybe it was because, at the heart of the situation, it hadn't been a lack of wanting to marry her that had propelled him into thinking about postponing their wedding. Maleficent _was_ a very real threat, and Elizabeth had certainly seen the consequences of the fairy's vendetta first hand with her best friend's grief. She more than understood Liam's fear that the Dark Fairy would use their wedding as a means to strike against him, and she certainly couldn't fault him for thinking it was best if her mother got a head start on the search for Avalonian artifacts.

"No, I'm not mad," she conceded. "I get why you felt that was the only course of action to take, and I also can see why, in your obsessive thoughts, you would have lost sight of the fact that I entered into this relationship knowing the dangers that came with it. I am, however, disappointed that you felt like you couldn't talk to me about any of this."

Liam sighed. "It's not that I didn't feel like I could talk to you—"

"I know. You didn't want to ruin tonight for me, but Liam…" Bringing her hand up to caress his scruff covered jaw, she sighed herself. "An engagement ball, or _any_ function for that matter, isn't more important than your mental well-being. I still would have enjoyed tonight even if you had told me while we were getting ready."

"Would you have, though?" he murmured, the question so quiet that she almost didn't hear it despite being mere inches from him.

"Absolutely. I could still bask in the joy of finally being able to celebrate our relationship in public while being there for you, you foliage-hating gnome."

A bark of laughter escaped Liam, and Elizabeth couldn't help but grin at the sound. When they were barely nineteen, a simple misunderstanding over a misplaced book had dissolved into an all out yelling match between the two of them outside the library. In the heat of the moment—while desperately trying to hide the crush she had on him—Elizabeth had flung the insult at Liam with every ounce of frustration and annoyance she could muster. Her straight face delivery of the absurd barb had immediately diffused the situation and left both of them holding their stomachs from laughing so hard. It had become their _thing_ after that; her muttering it in exasperation when he was being outrageous or, just as she had done now, in romantic affection.

"It's been awhile since you've called me that," he said once he had managed to stop laughing.

"You haven't needed to be called that in some time, Lieutenant."

"Aye." Smiling softly, he added, "I really am sorry for not talking to you."

"I know, and I accept the apology. Just… next time, _talk_ to me, okay? No matter what else is going on around us."

Nodding, Liam brought their entwined hands to his lips and sealed the promise with a kiss to the back of her hand.

* * *

At the height of the witching hour, during that brief time when magic and supernatural creatures were at their strongest right before night began to retreat from the oncoming day, an unnatural fog appeared in a remote part of the Camelot countryside. It seeped from the very ground like steam rising from a hot spring, billowing out from its point of entrance and curling upward until the charcoal gray mass was in the loose shape of a humanoid form. What nocturnal animals had stayed to bear witness to the peculiar fog turned and ran as it disappeared in a crackle of electric blue light, leaving behind a scowling and annoyed Lord of the Underworld.

He usually enjoyed visiting the Upper World. Unlike his younger brother, Zeus, who was pompous and thought he knew everything there was to know simply because he had been created with divinity, Hades had never thought his status as a god made him an expert on every subject. No, he had always had an inquisitive nature. He might have despised the mortals who called the Upper World their home—and avoided interacting with them at all costs—but it had never stopped him from traversing the mortal world on more than one occasion simply to observe and learn. This visit, however, wasn't about saiting his thirst for knowledge.

With the scowl on his face deepening at the thought, and paying no mind to the soot that was left on the dew covered grass in his wake, Hades began making his way towards the spot he had picked for this forced endeavor.

It had been two days since Maleficent's unwelcome visit to the Underworld and, staying true to his word, he was here on the promised date after saying good-bye to his wife to open the portal Maleficent thought would be the answer to all her problems. Hades still didn't agree with what he was about to do. He might despise mortals, but bestowing upon any of them the existence Maleficent was condemning them to went against his very nature as a benevolent god. He had created that law for those who sought to steal the souls he had been placed in charge of—not for innocents who were dragged into his domain at the behest of a revenge driven fairy. Even with his plan to circumvent the Dark Fairy's request while still fulfilling the promise he had given in naivety, one of the living souls that would enter the Underworld would still pay the ultimate price.

Coming to a small clearing that was ringed with oak trees, Hades stopped in its center and surveyed the area with a divine eye. The war that had been waged here centuries ago when Uther the First pulled Excalibur from its stone was long forgotten by Mankind, but he remembered. He could still see the blood that had been spilled as Uther fought to reclaim his kingdom from Mordred, and hear the sound of thousands of men taking their last breath before their souls descended to his domain. A place rife with as much bloodshed and tears as this one had seen was a perfect location to ensure the tethering spell he needed to perform would hold, and was a discreet location for a portal to mysteriously appear in it yet close enough to the nearest village to not go unnoticed for too long.

After all, Maleficent's plan hinged on the Captain and Savior hearing about the portal and sending their children in their place to investigate it.

With an annoyed sigh at the predicament he had found himself in—and all because he had been stupid enough to utter those two words—Hades reached into his black robe and pulled out the Wonderland blade that was stained with Prince Liam's blood. His eyes lingered on the heraldry engraved on the pommel as light from the half moon made the gold leafed eight pointed star within its design shine almost magically. He hoped that, wherever she was, Asteria would understand why he was doing this. The prophecy _had_ to be fulfilled, and that couldn't happen without both of the Twice-Blessed Children.

With the dagger in his right hand and a heavy heart, Hades stretched his left arm towards the center of the clearing and called upon his divine powers.

* * *

 _What in the seven hells had she done?_

Tossing in her bed at the thought, Erin punched one of the goose feather-filled pillows beneath her head in agitation.

That had been the prevailing thought running through her mind since Liam's engagement ball two days ago. She'd awoken the morning afterward with a smile on her face and an odd sensation of warmth filling her chest, one she hadn't quite been able to ascertain its source to as she got up to start her day. There was even a spring to her step that hadn't been there in years, but Erin had written the oddities off as the result of a good night's sleep in a proper bed after spending nearly a week on a ship. It wasn't until she had dressed and was halfway out her bedchamber door, her stomach demanding she put something other than hot cocoa in it, when the events of the night before had come back. The mug of hot cocoa she had created with a wave of her hand had nearly tumbled to the floor as images of her dance with Eric flashed through her mind, and the warmth that had been in her chest was instantly replaced with blind panic.

She had _danced_ with Eric D'Harper.

Not only that, but she had done so in a private and, whether she liked to admit it or not, romantic setting. It wasn't as if they were on a retrieval and needed to play a part, or in a formal setting— _like the ballroom that was literally a few hundred feet away_ —where that kind of thing wasn't odd for someone of Erin's station to do. No, of her own free will, without being coerced or under the influence of any magic, she had chosen to do it—and that was what absolutely scared her. She had always been so careful to keep a hold on her walls when it came to Eric, and yet not a single one of them had been present in that cloister with him. Because she hadn't just danced with him. She had also talked to him about her grief over Matthew's death, and had mentioned an aspect of it she never even told her father about.

What had made her do that? Why had she lowered her walls so much in a single hour when, for the past four years, she had had an ironclad grip on them? And what in the pantheon of gods had made her tell herself that dancing with him wouldn't be _intimate_?

Erin turned onto her back with a groan, her eyes following the shadows created from the still burning fireplace that flickered across the ceiling of her bedchamber. In the wake of the panic setting in, she had done the only thing she could think of to keep it from overwhelming her—she'd pulled away from Eric. He had been nothing but smiles and warm welcomes when she finally forced herself down to the dining hall the morning after their dance, and Erin had responded to everything he said with short, lukewarm responses as they consumed breakfast. When her grandfather asked if anyone could oversee some council meetings since Neal hadn't returned from resigning trade agreements with Queen Tiana, she had enthusiastically volunteered before anyone else could so much as bat an eyelash—a fact that had shocked the King of Misthaven into silence and caused her father's eyebrows to rise nearly to his hairline. She loathed attending council meetings, even if it did put to use the tedious lessons on kingdom law her Aunt Belle had given her, but she needed to do something that would keep her as far away from Eric as she could get.

It had certainly worked. Erin had been so busy with the meetings that she only saw the outside of the study they were using for a few brief moments, most of which were spent checking in on Hope. When she entered the dining hall for supper that night, it was to a completely different reception from Eric. The smiles that had greeted her earlier in the day were gone, and aside from a few clipped interjections to the conversation, he hadn't said anything more—even to her. The next day hadn't fared any better, with his demeanour as closed off to her as Erin's was to him the few times they had run into each other. She couldn't ever recall them physically being in the same space and going this long without talking, and even Erin couldn't ignore the ball of apprehension that had started to sit low in her gut at the development.

She knew he was hurt by her pulling away after what had happened, but she just needed time to sort out her jumbled emotions. That, and to trust herself not to lower her walls again when around him because that could only lead to one thing, and Erin Jones wasn't sure she could handle another broken heart.

Sighing at the futility of trying to sleep when her mind wouldn't shut off, Erin threw back the thick blanket covering her bed. _Perhaps a walk and some rum would help ease her turbulent thoughts enough to let her sleep,_ she thought as her bare feet padded to the door that lead to Hope's adjoining room. The fire she had stoked after the eighth bedtime story was still burning, and in the flickering amber light she could just make out her daughter laying across the large bed horizontally, the six year old's arms clutching her stuffed crocodile tightly to her chest and the blanket completely wrapped around her multiple times as soft snores filled the room. Content that at least Hope was sound asleep and wouldn't be waking any time soon, Erin left through her bedchamber and—forgoing a robe or even socks—quickly headed towards the lower levels of the castle.

* * *

Taking a sip of rum and grimacing as the strong liquid slid down her throat, Emma stared pensively into the seldom used study's crackling fireplace. She'd had yet another nightmare, leaving her to spend the night as she had so many others over the last six months—devoid of sleep and drinking more hot cocoa or rum than she usually did until she finally collapsed from exhaustion a few hours before dawn. It was an expected and exhausting routine, one she hadn't been able to break no matter how hard she tried.

 _And God how she had tried._

When her nightmares first started, a mere two days after Killian had awoken her from the sleeping curse with True Love's Kiss, Emma had told herself that she could handle them on her own. She would work through the core issues that had led to their creation within the Netherworld and _then_ go to Killian for comfort, just as she had done when Liam was poisoned with Dreamshade twenty-four years ago. After all, she clearly had long buried guilt over certain things—otherwise she never would have seen the scenarios she did while under the curse, and at the end of the day, the only person who could deal with them was her. Not wanting Killian to know how deep her regrets went when it came to things that had altered his and their children's lives had also played a part in Emma not telling him about the nightmares. There was a vulnerability in showing those feelings to someone so soon after she had lived them on a continuous loop for what felt like years, even when that person was the love of her life.

Time had not brought clarity, however. The longer she tried to deal with the nightmares on her own the worse they became, and it wasn't long until they increased in frequency. In the beginning they had been sporadic, only plaguing her once every few weeks, but two months after they had sent their past counterparts back in time they were waking her up multiple times a week.

By the time Emma realised she needed her husband's help, she physically _couldn't_ tell him about the nightmares.

She tried to, on numerous occasions, but every time she opened her mouth to do so the words wouldn't come. Any attempt to broach the subject of her nightmares was met with silence, as if someone magically had a hold of her vocal cords and only stole her ability to speak about that one subject. Emma had lost count of all the times she kneeled on their bed after waking from a nightmare, desperately looking down at her sleeping husband and with tears blurring her vision as she tried to speak. It was a battle she always lost, however, and not just with Killian. She physically couldn't tell _anyone_ —not her parents, her children, or her friends—and it left Emma feeling utterly isolated and frightened.

When she realized something beyond her control was keeping her from reaching out to her loved ones, Emma had discreetly began pouring through every magical book she could get her hands on to try find its source. She'd immediately ruled out any kind of curse. There hadn't been a chance _for_ her to become cursed since waking up, and even if someone had managed to do it, she'd kissed Killian numerous times since. A kiss from him, or any of the platonic ones she had received from her parents and children, would have broken it. Could it be a spell, then? Some rare side effect of a sleeping curse she had never heard of? Or did it have something to do with her past self coming to the future, despite the fact they had done everything they could to preserve the integrity of the timeline? She hadn't even been able to ask Rumple, Regina, or Merlin—the other knowledgeable magic users—about it, and her own research had come up empty. There was absolutely _nothing_ written anywhere that explained what she was experiencing.

When she started hearing things, pieces of conversation that weren't really said by those around her yet she heard them as clearly as if they had been, the fear and isolation that she felt had only deepened. The first time it happened—during a conversation with Erin on the _Jolly Roger_ four months prior—Emma had written the incident off as a side effect of not getting nearly as much sleep as she should have been because of the nightmares. But then it had continued to happen, and with no rhyme or reason behind it. They were always one-line snippets like she had 'heard' Killian say the night of the ball, sayings from the darkest moments of her nightmares that were randomly dropped into mundane conversations.

Sighing, Emma rubbed at her forehead with a trembling hand. _That_ was another development of this whole thing she'd began noticing about three months ago. It had started off slightly, just a tremor here or there, but it had quickly escalated to full blown shaking. Like her hearing pieces of conversation that weren't really said, there seemed to be no logic for when it happened—though it seemed to happen most often when her anxiety over everything was up. Her magic had also started to become as unreliable as her mind, it seemed. There were days when it worked perfectly while other times, no matter how hard she concentrated, the thing she tried to magically do wouldn't happen. She couldn't even create a simple bottle of rum tonight with her magic. Instead, she had been forced to pilfer a bottle of Killian's 300 year old rum from his study. Not that she was terribly surprised. Magic was tied to emotions, and with Emma's being all over the place from one day to the next—as well her mental state—it was really only a matter of time before her magic began to suffer the consequences of what she was going through.

Whatever was happening to her it was only getting worse, and it was getting harder to hide everything, particularly her sleep deprivation, from her family.

She had been able to write off the extra dark circles under her eyes and delayed responses as exhaustion from working tirelessly over the last six months to first close the time vortex, and then trying to find Avalon. The threat of Maleficent forever hanging over their heads had also provided her with a reason for her odd behavior, but it wouldn't be long before she was unable to hide behind even those excuses—not at the rate this _thing_ was going. Of course, she hadn't been able to hide anything from her husband, even from the beginning. Killian was a perceptive man, and it was only a matter of time before he stopped giving her chances to tell him and pushed her to reveal what was keeping her up at night. It's what she would do if the roles were reversed. In fact, it was _exactly_ what she had done a few months after waking him from Maleficent's sleeping curse.

If only she _could_ tell him. Tears sprang to Emma's eyes at the thought. _She hated this_. She hated the lying and secrecy, the unsaid words and concern that never fully left her husband's eyes. This wasn't how her marriage worked. They talked about what was bothering them, they discussed when a physical problem arose, and they certainly didn't keep life-altering secrets from each other. But that was exactly what she had been doing since she woke up from the sleeping curse—first by choice, and then against her will.

She just needed to find a way to defeat whatever was happening to her…

"Mom?"

Shouting an expletive—and nearly pouring her husband's pilfered rum into her lap—Emma placed her free hand over racing heart and whipped around to find her daughter standing in the doorway of the study.

"Erin!"

"Sorry!" the younger woman exclaimed, and Emma took some solace in the fact that Erin looked just as startled as she felt. "I didn't mean to scare you!"

Taking deep breaths, she forced air into her lungs that seemed to have stopped working momentarily at her daughter's unexpected arrival. "It's okay, kid. You just took five years off my life is all."

"You shouting a word I've heard you say _maybe_ twenty times my entire life took five years off my own if it makes you feel any better."

"A little bit," Emma replied, her accompanying chuckle ending on a motherly hum as she finally took in Erin's attire. Her daughter wore nothing more than a quarter-sleeved cotton nightgown, the delicate hem falling to just above Erin's ankles and revealing that, for whatever insane reason, she wasn't wearing any socks or shoes. It was an odd sight to see, even with Spring having officially arrived at the stroke of midnight. The cold nights wouldn't fully abate for another few days, and the castle hallways certainly didn't hold in heat of any kind. Emma herself had donned a pair of cotton pants and winter socks to ward off the chill before leaving her bedchamber hours ago, and she had still needed to scrounge for the blanket currently draped across her lap despite the fire crackling in front of her.

"Erin, why aren't you wearing a robe or socks? Are you not cold?"

"Not really."

As if right on cue a violent shiver ran through Erin, and with a raised eyebrow Emma patted the empty spot next to her.

"Come sit by the fire. The last thing you need to do two weeks before your brother's wedding is catch a cold."

Muttering something that sounded an awful lot like _yes, mother_ , Erin shut the door that Emma had been too lost in thought to hear open and made her way towards the couch. Once she was settled with her back against the arm rest and facing Emma, the Savior maneuvered the thick blanket so that it would cover both of their laps.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Mom."

"Of course. What are mothers for if not to keep their stubborn daughters from freezing to death when they decide to walk around with nothing but a nightgown on?"

Erin rolled her eyes. "It's not like its the middle of winter, Mom. I was just in a hurry and forgot to grab a robe before leaving my room."

She started to ask Erin why she was in such a rush when the obvious reason for why her daughter would want to quickly leave her room hit Emma like a ton of bricks. _Of course._ Except for the five months when she had had colic as a baby, Erin had never really had trouble sleeping. The schedule of rising with the sun and falling easily into slumber when the moon rose was ingrained into her daughter's very being as much as it was with Killian. The only reason she was ever up at this time of night—barring Hope or herself being sick—was her own nightmares.

"Do you need me to go get your father?"

Pausing in the act of attempting to braid her tangled hair, Erin frowned at her mother.

"Why would I need you to get Dad?"

"You're awake in the middle of the night," Emma stated, as if that alone explained why she had asked the question. It clearly didn't, however, judging by her daughter's deepening frown.

"I... am," she confusingly agreed. "I still don't understand what Dad has to do with that, though."

"Because of the nightmare you had."

Understanding instantly flashed across Erin's face. "Oh, I didn't have a nightmare. So no need to wake Dad up," she replied before going back to braiding her hair.

While she was more than glad a nightmare hadn't roused her daughter from slumber for once, Emma knew there had to be _something_ responsible for Erin's middle of the night sojourn.

"If a nightmare didn't wake you, what did?"

"Well, in order to wake up one has to have first _been_ asleep. My mind wouldn't shut off is all, so I thought a change of scenery would help." Finishing her braid, Erin left it hanging across her right shoulder and settled deeper against the armrest of the couch. "What about you? You don't usually haunt an out of the way study in the middle of the night."

"Same reason, though mine had to do with preparations for your brother's wedding," Emma lied. She knew better than to even attempt to say the real reason she was up with what had happened every other time she tried.

The corner of Erin's lips ticked up. "Is all of Grandma's elaborate plans what drove you to steal some of Dad's 300 year old rum?" she asked, inclining her head towards the bottle of rum that sat on the table in front of them.

"I'm _borrowing_ your father's ancient alcohol," Emma corrected while internally sighing in relief that her perceptive daughter hadn't picked up on her lie. _Not that she had any choice_ _ **but**_ _to lie._ "Would you like some?"

"I make it a point to _never_ turn down Dad's best rum."

She laughed as a standard goblet from the kitchens appeared in Erin's right hand amidst a cloud of white smoke, and after Erin poured herself some of the amber liquid and topped Emma's glass off, the younger woman held her cup outwards in a toast.

"To unexpected yet welcomed run-ins during the witching hour."

Raising her own goblet in salute, Emma took a sip of rum and sighed as the strong liquid easily slid down her throat. A comfortable silence fell between mother and daughter afterward, the quietness of the study only broken by the crackle and occasional pop of the fire they both stared into as each became lost to their own thoughts.

Emma was still certain that there was a specific reason her daughter was awake right now. Every instinct she had as a mother was telling her so, and she had learned long ago not to ignore that inner voice. She knew her daughter, and it just wasn't like Erin to not be able to sleep when a nightmare or Hope's health wasn't involved—particularly when nothing had befallen any other member of their family. No, something had obviously troubled Erin enough to make her leave her bedchamber in the middle of the night, and Emma's conviction of that only strengthened the more she went over their conversation. There was something off about it that was niggling at her, almost teasing her motherly instinct, and as she stared into the dancing flames of the fireplace with her index finger tapping against the side of her goblet she realized what it was.

Erin had given a vague reason for why she was awake—" _My mind wouldn't shut off is all,"_ —yet she had never said _why_ her mind wouldn't quiet enough to let her fall asleep. To most people the phrasing of her response and lack of expanding on the answer wouldn't mean anything, but Emma Jones knew better. Ever since Erin and Liam had learned about her ability to tell when someone was telling the truth or not, they had done everything they could to circumvent it by telling a half truth or carefully choosing their words, and that was exactly what Erin had done in their earlier conversation. Her daughter had very deliberately left out what thoughts were keeping her from sleep and immediately directed the conversation towards why Emma was awake.

She had to hand it to her daughter, it was the most clever way she'd ever seen one of her children side step her super power.

Emma mulled over a dozen different ways to broach the subject as she took another drink of rum, but in the end decided the best way to catch her daughter off guard was the direct route.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Erin, who had been idly drawing random patterns on the back of the couch with her left index finger as she stared into the fireplace, turned her head to look at her mother and smiled.

"Of course, Mom."

"What thoughts were keeping you awake?"

She didn't miss the way Erin's finger instantly faltered along the fabric of the couch at her question, or the slight widening of her eyes that she tried—and failed—to hide.

"Just… things," she replied evasively before draining her goblet of rum and looking back towards the fire.

"Things, huh?"

"Mhmm."

 _And there it was._ Her daughter's poker face was as solid as Killian's when it came to dice and life situations, but it completely fell apart whenever Eric D'Harper was involved. There _was_ something that had kept Erin from sleeping, and Emma knew exactly what it was.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with you and Eric avoiding each other like the plague over the last two days, now would it?"

Groaning, Erin let the side of her head fall to the back of the couch with an audible _thud_. "Was it _that_ obvious?" she muttered.

"To those who know the two of you and how you interact with each other… yes." Not wanting to give away the fact that she knew why her daughter was ignoring the pirate, but also wanting to give Erin an opening to talk about it, Emma added, "I just assumed he'd done something stupid again like the time he let Hope persuade him to break into your treasure box."

Erin snorted. "If _only_ it was that simple." After a few seconds of silence, she sighed in resignation and lifted her head from the back of the couch. "Eric didn't actually do anything this time. It was something _I_ did. Or, well, something I allowed to happen."

"Oh?"

Reaching for the bottle of rum, Erin poured a generous amount into her goblet and immediately drained a quarter of it, one eye closing momentarily against the potency of such a large gulp before she spoke.

"I danced with Eric." At the feigned look of surprise on Emma's face she chuckled humorlessly. "Trust me, the morning after I was _just_ as shocked about my actions as you are."

"How did it happen?"

Erin sighed. "I don't even know, Mom. I left Liam and Elizabeth's ball to go to the cloister and Eric followed me. We talked for a bit and it just… happened."

"What, the two of you… just broke out into a waltz like in a musical?" she asked, genuinely curious since she had been trying to keep Will and Killian from alerting Erin to their presence during that pivotal moment.

Her daughter, having been born and raised in the Enchanted Forest, clearly didn't understand what Emma meant by 'musical' in that context and her look of utter confusion reminded the Savior of a time when modern references use to stump her husband.

"I've no idea what you mean by that but, no—he asked me to dance."

"And you said yes."

"Obviously."

Taking a sip from her own goblet, Emma paused for the briefest of moments before leveling Erin with the most loaded question she had ever asked her daughter.

"Why did you say yes?"

"That would be the question that has me sitting here with you in the middle of the night," Erin responded truthfully. Propping her left elbow on the back of the couch, she rested her temple on her hand and sighed heavily. "I don't know. If I'm being _honest_ with myself… I said yes because I wanted to. At that moment in time dancing with Eric didn't seem like such a huge thing when I compared it to other things. I mean, we've been in _way_ more intimate circumstances than a rigid dance form before and I—I just thought it wouldn't be any different."

"But it was," Emma surmised, and Erin nodded in agreement.

Glancing down to her lap where her engagement ring glittered brightly in the light from the fire, Emma carefully contemplated her next response. The direct approach to catch Erin off guard that she had used earlier wouldn't work for where this conversation was headed. No, she would have to take her husband's approach with this topic rather than her usual blunt method. This was a pivotal moment in her daughter's life after all, just as it had been for her a lifetime ago when she came to the same crossroads. The only difference was whereas Emma had to come to terms with her walls lowering and what that meant on her own, Erin had someone that had lived it and who could guide her through the emotional change she was clearly fighting against. _Not that she's going to like what I have to say,_ Emma thought as she twisted her engagement ring with her thumb. _She_ certainly wouldn't have wanted to hear any of what was about to be said, but it needed to happen if Erin ever stood a chance at claiming the happiness she rightfully deserved.

"And, because it was different from all the other moments you've shared with Eric, you've been avoiding him for the last two days," she said, leaning to set her goblet on the table before bringing her gaze back to her daughter. "I get that. I did the same thing when I kissed your father after we returned from our little jaunt into the past. Allowing yourself to dance with him meant that your walls were able to lower, and that absolutely scares you."

"Weren't you scared when it happened with you and Dad?"

Emma laughed. "Are you kidding? I was _terrified_. You can't compare different pains, but I can safely say my walls were about the same level as yours, kid. When I woke up the next morning after kissing your father I… I can very distinctly remember looking in the bathroom mirror and seeing fear in my eyes once I realized what I had done. Lowering the walls you put up to protect yourself is extremely frightening, and I can almost guarantee you've been wondering why you allowed it to happen."

"That is another thought that has me sitting here with you," Erin admitted with another nod of her head. "Particularly since I've always been so careful at maintaining a hold on them when it comes to Eric."

"Because that's what is suppose to happen." At the confused pinch to Erin's brow, she continued. "By nature, humans are not guarded creatures. We don't begin life with emotional baggage or skewed views on the world—they are gained with the experiences we go through. Emotional walls are _meant_ to come down. Our instinct upon being hurt may be to throw them up, but they aren't meant to stay there. I can tell you with absolute certainty as someone who once had them, that you can _not_ maintain a hold on them forever."

She could see panic begin to filter across Erin's face as her words sunk in, and she wasn't one bit surprised when her daughter's wide eyed stare turned to a hard look of trepidation.

"What are you saying?"

 _This_ was the part Erin was going to rail against, and Emma squared her own shoulders for the battle of stubbornness that was to come.

"What I'm saying is that, no matter what you do or how hard you try to fight it, your walls will continue to lower when it comes to Eric."

Erin scoffed, and Emma could feel the stubbornness her daughter inherited from Liam Jones rising like a strong surge of seawater in a storm. "That's not going to happen, Mom. If it did, that would mean—"

"You'd finally allow yourself to be with him?" Erin's jaw tightened but Emma continued on. "That's what is _suppose_ to happen in this situation, kid. Those walls will start lowering more and more until you finally let him in."

"No."

With a hard shake of her head, Erin threw off the part of the blanket that was covering her lap and quickly stood. She didn't storm out of the room like Emma would have if someone had told her that nearly thirty years ago though. Instead, she set her glass on the table next to Emma's with more force than necessary and planted her feet in the stance Emma had always termed her 'Captain's pose' before crossing her arms.

"This was _absolutely_ a one-time thing."

Images of a dark, humid jungle and the feel of supple leather beneath her fingertips flashed through Emma's mind at the familiar phrase, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"You know, I said that very thing after I kissed your father for the first time. It _clearly_ didn't hold."

 _That_ didn't go over well.

"This is a completely different situation from you and Dad," Erin argued, metaphorically digging her heels in. "Your walls had already begun to slip before that kiss, you've said so a thousand times. That night with me and Eric was the first time mine has ever lowered."

Emma raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her daughter.

"You may think it has _only_ happened once, but the truth is you've been lowering your walls for some time now. This was just the first major instance that _you_ were able to tell it had happened."

"I have not—"

"Erin, remember who you are talking to," she said, her voice slipping into the firm, maternal tone she had used while disciplining her children when they were younger. _So much for using Killian's approach._ "You can deny it to everyone else but you've discussed your changing emotions about Eric with me numerous times over the last four years. The fact is when you first met Eric you wouldn't even _admit_ that you were drawn to him. You eventually did and then—somewhere between retrievals and nightly talks aboard both of your ships—you were able to say that you cared about him, yet you didn't want to put a word to that emotion for fear of what doors it would open. Now… well, whether you like to admit it or not, you and I both know what word should be used to describe how you feel about him. I hate to break it to you kid, but _that_ is the very definition of your walls lowering over time."

Erin's jaw ticked furiously as Emma spoke, but she offered no rebuttal once her mother was finished. She also didn't break eye contact with the Savior, her green eyes flashing with defiance and fear in equal measure. It was the firmest Emma had ever been with her daughter when it came to their discussions on this matter, but she forced herself to remember that it had to be done. Erin was still stubbornly fighting what she felt for Eric and until she stopped doing so, she would never be truly happy.

As a mother, she couldn't let that happen—even if it meant telling her daughter a truth she didn't want to hear.

After a few tense moments with mother and daughter staring at each other, Emma sighed. "Will you please sit down and cover up? You're still barefoot and only in a nightgown."

Erin opened her mouth—more than likely to lodge a sassy retort—but she clearly thought better of it and, snapping her jaw closed, did as Emma asked. When she was settled back into the position she had been in before she jumped up, Emma leaned forward and grasped her daughter's hands before she could recross her arms.

"It may not be what you want to hear," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "But you need to hear it, Erin. You're up in the middle of the night because you couldn't understand why, after so long, you let your walls lower the other night and I'm giving you the answer. It's because you've fallen in love with him."

All defiance fled Erin's eyes at the word 'love', leaving behind only raw fear, and Emma tightened her grip on her daughter's hands when she moved to jerk them away.

"I know it's scary. You can't even admit it in the depths of your own mind because it's so frightening. I've _been_ there. When it _truly_ hit me that I was in love with your father, I was so scared that I threw up! I know what you are feeling, why you are trying to run from this, but kid… it's a fact you can't hide from anymore. You're in love with Eric, and probably have been for longer than even you know."

Emma watched Erin swallow hard, a myriad of emotions filtering across her face, and in the space of a single heart beat all tension dissipated from Erin's body as she closed her eyes. She couldn't help but think that, aside from Erin's pointed ears and attire, it was like looking at herself nearly thirty years ago when the realization that her own walls were lowering had struck her.

"What did you feel?"

Taken aback by the random question, Erin's brow furrowed as her eyes reopened. "Pardon?"

"When you were dancing with Eric," Emma explained. "Don't think about it or try to dissect what it was, just… What was the main emotion you felt while it was happening?"

"Happiness."

Erin's hands began to tremble in her own as the word fell from her lips without thought, and Emma's hold on her daughter tightened even further. "Don't you think that you deserve to feel that way _all_ the time, Erin?"

That was the tipping point to the emotional wave Erin had been riding for the last ten minutes, and with tears of acceptance and panic filling her eyes, she launched herself into Emma's arms without warning. With one hand rubbing Erin's back and the other cradling her head where it rested against her shoulder, Emma murmured words of comfort into her daughter's hair. She wished she could take the crippling fear away from her, or at least be able to show her that the other side of it was _wonderful_ and worth letting go of, but she couldn't. This was a path only Erin could walk, and every fiber within Emma that was a mother railed against the fact that there was nothing she could do except hold her.

"What happens when I do finally admit it and something happens to him?" Erin whispered, and Emma's heart broke at the question.

While she understood that fear all too well— _hadn't that been one of her own worries when coming to terms with her feelings for Killian_?—the reasons behind that terror even existing for them differed vastly between mother and daughter. Both had lost romantic partners to the finality of death, but Erin was the only one who had done so at the peak of happiness. Neal, Graham, and even Walsh had been taken from Emma either after the relationship had already ended or long before love even had time to bloom. Matthew, on the other hand, was ripped from Erin's arms when love still existed and thrived between the two. This was where her expertise on the matter always ended and Killian's began, yet without him there to offer the perfect words of advice to their daughter, it was up to Emma to answer the question.

"Nothing may happen to him for many years to come," she said, winching internally at the lame response. _Way to go with that horrid pep talk, Emma._

Erin sighed, and her body shuddered with the action. "You can't guarantee that, Mom. No one can."

"No, I can't, but you can't guarantee that something _will_ happen to him either. The only thing I can say to assuage that fear—for you to remember when you _do_ admit it—is that wouldn't you rather take that chance and know what it was like to be loved by him, than not take it and never know? If I had let my fear win I wouldn't have you and your brother. I also wouldn't have years of endless happy memories with your father or know the joy that comes from being loved by him." Tucking a few wayward strands of Erin's hair behind her daughter's slightly pointed ear, Emma rested her cheek atop Erin's head. "You don't have to admit it to me, or even to yourself right now, but I do want you to promise me that when the inevitable time comes, you won't run from those feelings. You deserve to be happy, kid."

For a long moment only the sound of the crackling fire filled the study, and just as Emma started to think she had pushed too far Erin spoke, her words whispered into the fabric of Emma's shirt.

"I promise, Mom."

Closing her eyes, Emma tightened her hold on Erin and sighed. She may not be able to help herself when it came to whatever was happening to her, but she at least could still help her daughter.

* * *

Lowering his arm, Hades stared at the swirling blue portal in front of him with disgust.

It was an abomination to his very way of ruling the Underworld, but the promise Maleficent had hoarded for centuries had been fulfilled. _Well, and with an added bit she didn't know about,_ he thought as he looked down at the silver dust in his right hand. It was all that remained of the blade portion of the Wonderland dagger, his divine magic having disintegrated it in order to cast the complex and powerful tethering spell while the pommel part remained unscathed and tucked safely within his robes. As far as the Dark Fairy was concerned, he had opened the portal to his domain and tethered the souls of Prince Liam and Princess Erin to it—nothing more, nothing less.

Sighing heavily, he emptied his hand of the silver remnants and watched with a sadness he hadn't felt in eons as the light breeze scattered them across the clearing.

"Hades."

Startling at the familiar yet unexpected voice, Hades whirled around to see the one person that he absolutely did _not_ want to be found by in this moment.

Persephone, Queen of the Underworld and his beloved wife, was standing serenely a few feet from him with her hands clasped in front of her and an unamused look on her beautiful face. Despite being a queen to one of the three major realms—and holding more authority in that realm than even Hera, Queen of the Gods, had on Mount Olympus—her attire was simplistic, something Persephone had always preferred to the lavish garments some of the other goddesses wore. No jewels or trappings of her station adorned her except a crown of flowers whose petals were in various hues of purple, and the gown she wore was sleeveless and as white as freshly fallen snow. Her waist was cinched with a golden cord and the delicate fabric of her hem fluttered around her legs ever so slightly in the breeze that continued to pass through the clearing. The auburn locks that were always left to cascade down her back while with him were now braided and laying over her right shoulder with a single narcissus flower tucked into its end.

Although it had only been a few hours since he had said good-bye to her for the next six months, Hades wanted nothing more than to take the beautiful creature that had somehow fallen in love with him into his arms for just a moment longer—but the unmissable, swirling portal behind him prevented him from doing so.

"Persephone… What are you doing here?"

"I think the same could be asked of you, dear husband," the Goddess of Spring replied, her sapphire gaze flickering between him and the portal. "Or, more appropriately, why you're here opening gateways to the Underworld."

Internally damning Maleficent to the ninth circle of hell for putting him in this position—and wondering why he hadn't worn the helm that granted him invisibility even from other gods—Hades raised his hands in supplication.

"This isn't what it looks like."

"Oh? So that _isn't_ a portal to the Underworld that you clearly opened since only you and _I_ have the power to do so?"

"No, it is, but—" At her raised eyebrow Hades sighed. He had hoped to complete this shameful errand without Persephone ever finding out about it, but Tyche was clearly not looking out for her uncle tonight. Not willing to lie to his wife now that she knew of the portal's existence, he told her about the Dark Fairy's visit. He watched a myriad of expressions cross her divine features—confusion, outrage, pride—all of which ended with stunned horror as he explained what Maleficent had asked of him in order to fulfill the promise he had given her.

"Hades… you can't do this. The horrors those children will be subjected to—"

"I know," he whispered, his tone so quiet that anyone but her as a fellow divine being wouldn't have been able to hear it. "But you, along with every other one of our kind in the pantheon, knows I am bound to honor my word when I give it. As much as I loathe the fact that I did, I can't go back on it."

"I'm aware that you can't break a promise—even if it was only given to try to placate someone—it's just… Whywould she be so vile as to condemn innocent souls to that kind of fate?"

"You and I are both aware of the lengths Maleficent will go to when she feels like she's been wronged."

Nodding, and no doubt remembering the night eons ago when the world of Man had forever been altered by the Dark Fairy's actions, Persephone moved to stand next to him at the very edge of the portal.

"How did I not sense her presence in the Underworld when she was there?" When he didn't immediately respond, she turned a narrowed gaze towards him. "Devil, did you shield her presence from me?"

Hades huffed at the inaccurate nickname. She knew how much it and the misconception in the mortal world of _what_ the Underworld was annoyed him, but he also knew that was exactly why she had used it. Although Persephone was his equal when it came to ruling the Lower World, as an older god and one of the three original brothers, there were abilities he possessed that surpassed even the unparalleled power she had been given when she became his wife.

"I did, but it was to protect her against your wrath rather than concealing her presence."

Persephone scoffed. "She's an immortal being. I can no more harm her than I could Ares or any other god."

"Nymphs are immortal too and yet you found a way around that," Hades pointed out, referring to the naiad Minthe who had once tried to seduce him and been turned into a mint plant by his dark queen. Not that he blamed her for her actions—he had certainly done far worse to the mortal who had braved the Underworld and tried to take Persephone from him. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his wife rolled her eyes.

"Taking care of a nymph is _far_ different than dealing with a Sister of Avalon," she muttered as her gaze turned back to the portal. "So this is how it all ends. Maleficent will become the Dark One as was prophesied by the Fairy Mother, and every realm will be plunged into despair and utter darkness."

"Perhaps not, my flower."

Persephone frowned. "How could it not considering the law of the Underworld?"

"I don't like having to fulfill debts, particularly to someone I despise," he replied with a knowing smile. "As luck would have it, Maleficent herself handed me the very means I needed to circumvent her request while still upholding my promise."

From the depths of his robe he pulled out the last remaining piece of the Wonderland blade and held it up so his wife could see it in the light from the portal. Hades could tell that she wasn't sure what she was looking at at first, but then Persephone's sapphire gaze focused on the heraldry that lay on the pommel and her eyes widened.

"Is that—"

"Indeed. I don't know how she didn't recognize it."

"From what I remember of that time of upheaval, the Mother Fairy didn't tell Maleficent what had happened to her sister," she replied as her fingers traced the gold leafed star. "Even if she had, there's no way Maleficent would be able to make the connection between Asteria and the Twice-Blessed Children, or be aware that _you_ knew about it. Although, I still don't understand. How did this help you in circumventing her request?"

When he didn't immediately respond again to one of her questions, Persephone turned her attention from what was left of the Wonderland blade to him. His eyes moved from the dagger to the portal, and he saw the exact moment when his wife realized what he had done.

"Oh, no. Hades, please tell me you didn't."

"It was the only way—"

"It absolutely was not! How are you even sure _he'll_ join them?"

"Because wherever the one goes, _he_ usually follows."

She shook her head. "And you're okay with sacrificing him?"

"Of course not, but it was the only way," Hades stressed. "Persephone, the prophecy _must_ be protected at all costs if we don't want the future you described to come to pass. There was no other way for me to ensure that _both_ of the Twice-Blessed Children would be around to defeat Maleficent. I loathed to do it, and I will spend every moment of my immortal life hoping Asteria forgives me, but it had to be done."

Placing the bladeless dagger back into his robes, Hades looked out over the blue portal as his jaw clenched. If there had been any other way he would have taken that avenue in a heartbeat instead of the one he did. He had always been fond of Asteria, the fairy's curiosity and desire for knowledge as great as his own, and the two of them had shared an untold number of conversations on his visits to Avalon while he was courting Maleficent. To know that he had betrayed her, even if indirectly…

"Then let them do The Gauntlet."

It wasn't the first time he had heard those words fall from his wife's divine lips, but the last time she had said them had certainly been with less authority.

"Persephone—"

"I mean it. Send them through The Gauntlet."

Sighing, Hades returned his gaze to her. "You know what that tests, my flower. It can't work with an odd number."

"Except it can if _he_ is the one that is told about the rule. A friendship can be just as strong as romantic feelings and pass the test."

She wasn't wrong, but his beloved wife seemed to be forgetting one very important thing.

"Do you remember what happened the last time you asked me to send living souls through The Gauntlet?"

"This time is different," she said, her face a mask of determination that he hadn't seen since she told her mother that she wouldn't be leaving him or the Underworld, no matter what Demeter said. "I can feel it."

It wasn't that he didn't believe her. Hades had learned long ago not to question his wife's instincts through watching others do so, but he also knew what would happen, again, when the mortals inevitably failed the test. As much as he wanted to believe Persephone so the guilt over his decision was lessened, he couldn't bear to see her like that again.

"You were melancholy for nearly three centuries the last time," he gently reminded her. "When they fail—"

"They won't. I've seen them, and they have what it takes to complete the challenge. You can protect the prophecy _and_ not need to seek Asteria's forgiveness if you do this."

As the green color of her magic flashed within her eyes, Hades mulled her proposition over. What she said had merit. If they went through The Gauntlet—and succeeded where no one else had before—he wouldn't have to feel guilty over his actions to circumvent Maleficent's plan and protect the prophecy. _If_ they succeeded, that is. Failure of the test meant Hades would have to fall back on the law of the Underworld which, while it would ensure Maleficent's defeat, would mean his guilt would remain.

"Alright," he said at length, "I'll send them through The Gauntlet. You have my word."

He could tell the importance of his word choice was not lost on Persephone. A God's promise was an unbreakable oath no matter who it was given to, after all—mortal, immortal, or divine—and Hades had just done without hesitation the very thing he had only allowed himself to do twice before in his centuries of existence.

Persephone sighed. "You didn't have to—"

"I know." Moving to wrap his arms around her, he added, "You won't be in the Underworld to ensure it happens, and I wanted you to leave here with the certainty that it would."

She smiled sadly at his words. "Speaking of my forced exile from our home, I should go find Mother. She'll be worried since I came straight here."

"Yes, lets not have Demeter thinking I've gone back on a centuries-old accord," Hades grunted, the lack of warmth he felt for his mother-in-law evident in his tone. "How did you know I would be here, anyway?"

"Hermes." He couldn't help but scoff at the name, which drew a momentary laugh from his wife. "He saw you leaving and thought it strange since you normally lock yourself away after I ascend to the Upper World every spring. I decided to seek you out to find out what was happening."

 _Of course_ it would be his nephew. "I should feed him to Cerebus for running to you."

"Considering he's a god as well, I don't think that will do much," Persephone teased. "Besides, I'll take any extra time with you I can get. Even if it is helping you from having an eternity of guilt."

Sympathizing with her on the need for more time together when they were about to be apart for six months, Hades leaned down and kissed her passionately. "You need to go, my flower," he murmured once they broke apart. She tried to hide the tears that formed but he saw them, and his immortal heart broke all over again as it had done hours ago when she'd left their home.

"Don't forget they'll need a guide for The Gauntlet."

"I won't. I already have someone in mind and will be sending my rat of a nephew to put everything into place."

With one final, quick kiss Persephone was gone—her form dissolving within the hold of his arms into hundreds of flower petals as she went to greet her mother. No sooner had she left and Hades had turned back to the portal when something across the clearing caught his attention. It was a lone raven flying in, and the unmistakable stench of fairy magic— _her_ magic—denoted it as anything but an ordinary bird.

"Tell your mistress it's done," he growled as soon as the raven landed on a nearby rock. Without waiting for a reply, the Lord of the Underworld dissolved into a gray fog and seeped back to his unseen realm beneath the earth.


	8. Chapter 7: Confidentiality is a Virtue

A/N: It took 7 months, but I'm updating! Thank you to everyone whose favorited or reviewed this story within that time frame. I know I'm a slow writer but seriously, thank you for being patient with my muse.

Credit this chapter goes to wellhellotragic for her medical expertise on bruise development and not making me look like a complete moron when it comes to that department, distant-rose for letting me borrow the phrase 'scullery maids' for Killian and being the Queen of Witt when it came to a line for Liam in the last scene, and xpumpkindumplingx for literally slapping me in the face with the exact wording for more than a few transition sentences. Because if there's one thing I loath almost as much as writing fighting scenes, it's transitions! And I would be hopelessly lost without spartanguard, who is one of the all time betas in the world and who puts up with my constant complaining about scene flow, character action, if THIS sounds right, and... well, everything to do with producing content really, haha

As always, enjoy, and updates come faster when you feed the muse! Jusssssst saying!

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Confidentiality is a Virtue of the Loyal**

Placing his fork into his empty breakfast bowl, Killian leaned back in his chair and sighed in contentment as he surveyed those in the dining hall with him.

David, who was in his usual spot at the end of the long table, was absentmindedly flipping through the large stack of parchment that lay to his left while eating. To his left was Arthur with Will next to him, both men too engrossed in their food to contribute much to the conversation other than singular words of acknowledgement. On the other side of Will sat Belle, a book open next to her nearly empty plate, while Killian and Hope were in the chairs directly across from the kings of Camelot and Wonderland. It was fairly early for a Friday morning—the sun had just began to rise high enough to send its warming rays through the castle windows and chase away the nightly chill when he left his bedchamber a half hour ago—and as a result, the dining hall was empty save for the six of them and the few staff members milling about.

The other two people who were part of the early riser crowd were nowhere to be seen, however. Not that Killian was surprised by that fact.

He'd been on his way to the dining hall when he ran into Erin and Hope on the family wing, and his daughter had practically jumped at the opportunity upon seeing him to have Killian escort Hope to breakfast. He didn't mind—Killian never minded spending time with his granddaughter—but he also knew Erin asking the favor had nothing to do with a desire to get a head start on going over the _Jewel of the Realm_ as she had claimed. No, his daughter was doing everything she could to keep from going to the dining hall because she assumed Eric would be there.

He wasn't, of course, and in fact Eric hadn't joined them for breakfast since the morning after Liam and Elizabeth's engagement ball because he was avoiding Erin as much as she was avoiding him. If he hadn't lived through a similar experience himself nearly thirty years ago with Emma, Killian would think they were both being silly. But he understood both sides of the coin. He knew that Erin was retreating behind her walls because of what she had allowed to happen five nights ago, and he also knew that Eric was putting space between him and Erin instead of being his normal persistent self because he was _genuinely_ hurt by her actions. Killian had felt the same way when he thought Emma pulled away from him in favor of his future counterpart during their second time travel adventure.

He had hoped after her talk with Emma that Erin would take action and correct the divide that was growing between her and Eric, but he'd underestimated just how stubborn his daughter was. She was still going out of her way to avoid him, even with Emma shedding light on some long overdue truths and outright _telling_ Erin that she was, in fact, in love with Eric, and Killian was certain at this point that it would take divine intervention for his daughter to willingly stay in a room with the younger captain for more than thirty seconds. Perhaps his joke to Emma the other day—about saying the hell with Erin's emotional walls and Eric's pride and locking them in the brig until they talked—wasn't such a bad idea...

Seemingly appearing next to him from out of nowhere and startling him from his thoughts, one of the castle staff smiled warmly while gesturing to his empty bowl.

"Finished, Captain?"

"Aye," he replied, returning the young man's smile with one of his own. "Please give my regards to the chef for one of the most magnificent spreads I've had in over two centuries."

"It's just porridge and bacon, mate."

Killian's attention swung across the table to Will as the staff member left, and he raised an eyebrow in amusement. He was about to remind his best friend of a certain incident but Belle, whose own plate was being removed from the table by another staff member, beat him to it.

"I wouldn't let Granny hear you calling her cooking _just_ porridge and bacon after what you did the other night," she stated without ever moving her eyes from the book she was reading.

Arthur practically inhaled the water he had been drinking, and David barely managed to hide his grin behind a piece of parchment as Will's cheeks turned bright red at the mention of _that_ incident.

It was no one's fault but Will's that he was currently on Granny's bad side, after all. Two nights ago all of them—Will, Killian, David, Arthur, Liam, Henry, and Eric—had imbibed in too much alcohol during what Emma termed their 'weekly guy's night' and, as it tended to, one thing had lead to another. Will, with no one sober enough to tell him not to, had decided to sneak into the kitchen and procure some of the ham Granny had left to cook overnight. It had apparently went off without incident until Granny paid a surprise visit to the kitchen for one reason or another, and the Widow Lucas had been _more_ than a little angry at finding Will scoundering away with the fruit of her labor. In his haste to get out of firing range of Granny's crossbow—plus his inebriated state—Will had somehow ended up dumping the entire ham into the fireplace.

Killian had never heard Granny use the language she did while chasing Will around the kitchen with her crossbow.

"It wasn't that bad," Will muttered before biting into a slice of bacon.

David snorted. "She banned you from stepping foot in her kitchen for two life times, Scarlet."

"She also threatened to eat him at the next full moon," Belle added while smirking at her ex-husband. "I think it's safe to say it _was_ that bad."

"I don't know the Widow Lucas as well as the rest of you, but with as vehemently as she was cursing your ancestors, I am surprised she hasn't poisoned your food," Arthur added, eyeing what was left of Will's porridge and causing the White King to dramatically swallow the bacon he had been chewing.

"Grandpa?"

Looking to his left, Killian saw Hope studying him with a curious gaze as she chewed on a bite of the apple he had insisted she eat alongside her porridge and bacon.

"Yes, little eala?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"After you finish that bite," he replied, grinning when she sighed dramatically. He had raised his own children not to talk with their mouths full, and he was determined to help pass that manner of good form onto his granddaughter as well. Once she had done so, Hope tilted her head in a way that had Killian feeling like he was looking at a smaller, feminine version of himself.

"Did you really fight a Jaccerwobby all by yourself?"

Killian blinked in confusion. "A what?"

"The Jagger…" Looking between her aunt and uncle, she asked, "Japperwonky?"

"Jabberwocky," the librarian and Will supplied at the same time, both slowly saying each syllable so the six year old could better grasp the unusual word.

"Jab-ber-wock-e." A smile broke out on Hope's face when Belle nodded to show she had said it properly. "That's it!"

While he was proud of his granddaughter for being able to articulate such a complex word, even with a little assistance, Killian was still as confused as before.

"What made you ask that, little eala?"

"I saw a picture of it in Uncle Will and Aunt Ana's story book yesterday and asked Uncle Will what it was."

Taken aback, Killian looked at his best friend in disbelief.

"Henry included _that_ in your story?"

Will shrugged while shoveling another spoonful of porridge into his mouth. "Why not? Ridding Wonderland of those beasts was an adventure in of itself, not to mention the first one Ana and I were a part of as a couple."

"You also know how Henry's role as the Author works," his father-in-law reminded him without moving his eyes from the parchment in his hand. "His job isn't to pick and choose which stories or what parts of them are told. Every aspect from them is recorded."

Well, they both had a point there. The Jabberwockys, an ancient race of dragon-like creatures, had overrun Wonderland in Ana's sixteen-year absence. Unlike normal dragons, however, a Jabberwocky didn't seclude themselves in a cave and do everything in their power to avoid human contact. They were an aggressive species that thrived on terror and destruction, a remnant of times long past when creatures ruled the realms and the race of Man was nothing more than a dream to Prometheus. Expelling them from Wonderland had taken time and considerable effort, and had included some of the most ferocious battles the centuries-old pirate had ever been a part of.

A tug on the sleeve of his shirt had Killian redirecting his attention back to his granddaughter. "Is it true?" she asked more adamantly and with the hint of command in her voice that all children had when they wanted to know something.

"Aye, I fought a Jabberwocky," he conceded with a nod of his head, "But I didn't do it alone. Your papa helped me."

David scoffed. "Don't let your grandfather sell himself short, Hope. He battled one by himself for nearly twenty minutes before I could get there. All I did was show up at the last second and distract the Jabberwocky long enough for him to get the fatal blow in."

"That's still helping, mate."

"Doesn't negate the fact that you went toe-to-toe with one of the most ferocious creatures in existence for an extended length of time and held your own," Belle said, her tone almost daring him to contradict her. He wouldn't, of course—contradicting praise that Belle had given him was something Killian Jones had learned long ago _never_ to do. While on the surface Killian was a self-confident man, in reality, he had always been uncomfortable when individual praise was given to him.

Feeling the tips of his ears burn, Killian looked to find his granddaughter staring at him in awe.

"Will you tell me the story? Uncle Will didn't know the good parts."

Chuckling at Will's muttered, _"Well you have to be_ _ **present**_ _to know the good parts_ ," Killian was about to launch into the tale when he caught sight of the look on Belle's face as she stood and made her way around the table. _Ah, yes. Morning lessons._ Carefully using his hook to move a piece of stray hair that had come undone from Hope's ponytail to behind her ear, he smiled.

"Another time, little eala. You've got morning lessons to attend."

"It won't take long to tell the story though!"

"Oh, but it will because your grandfather couldn't make a story short if his life depended on it," Belle interjected as she came to a stop on the other side of Hope's chair. Ignoring the mock look of indignation Killian gave her, she added, "Besides, if we start your morning lessons late it'll mean less play time later on, and I heard that someone is planning an elaborate tea party with her stuffed animals this evening."

"Princesses should never be late for their own tea parties," Will intoned dramatically as Arthur and David nodded their heads.

Sighing, Hope placed the remains of her apple into her empty bowl and looked up at him. "Can it be one of my bedtime stories tonight?"

"I think that can be arranged." At her dazzling smile, Killian leaned over to place a kiss atop her head. "Now run along with Aunt Belle. Who, by the way, also can't tell a short story to save her life."

"Never said I could, pirate."

Killian laughed at the quick witted reply as Hope hopped down from her chair and the two women made their way out of the dining hall.

"Do you think that'll be one of the twelve bedtime stories you have to tell her or will she weasel that as the thirteenth one?" David asked, his eyes not moving from the parchment he was once again reading.

"Oh, that will most definitely be added to the normal twelve," Killian replied as a courier bearing Arthur's personal arms walked into the dining hall and handed the King of Camelot a rolled up piece of parchment. "Did Neal finally make it home last night?"

"He did, actually. He arrived while you were in your meeting with the Naval officers."

"All is well with the renewed trade agreement between us and Queen Tiana then, I presume?"

"Signed by both parties, and Neal got her to agree to a lower tax on certain items imported from Misthaven without us having to lower our own taxes."

Killian chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Neal always did have a way with wrangling better agreements out of anyone wearing a crown."

"It's what will make him a great king one day," Will interjected.

"Yes it will," David said proudly before setting down the piece of parchment he'd been half paying attention to for the last few minutes. "I did mention to Erin last night when I ran into her that Neal would be taking over the council meetings she's been overseeing now that he's back, and I must say my granddaughter didn't seem too pleased about that. Which is odd considering she normally runs from those duties any chance she has. Any idea why?"

He knew exactly why his daughter wouldn't like that fact, and from the way David was looking at him, Killian also knew that his father-in-law had an inkling as well. After all, a blind man would have been able to see the tension that had developed between Erin and Eric since the engagement ball. No one except those who had been in the cloister that night knew _why_ the young princess and pirate were suddenly doing everything they could to avoid each other, and Killian wasn't one to needlessly talk about his children's problems to others—even if they were family.

Before he could answer the question, however, Killian caught sight of Arthur's worried frown as he read the message that had been delivered to him.

"Is everything alright, Arthur?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Sir Percival says that he received word of a portal opening about five hours ride from the castle, but when he and a few other knights went to investigate, it didn't appear that anything had come through it. He also notes that there seemed to be a barrier of some sort around it that stopped anyone from getting close, and at the time he was writing this message it had been open for three days."

"Well, portals randomly opening is never a _good_ thing," Will pointed out.

Killian nodded in agreement with his best friend. "I've also never heard of a portal staying open for that long. They usually close within minutes, even if something hasn't gone into them."

"A barrier protecting it is also cause for concern," David mused.

"I hate to suggest it because of the implications it would lead to, but could Maleficent be behind it?"

David was shaking his head before Will had even finished the sentence. "Thankfully we can rule her having played a part in this oddity out. I received word just this morning from Blue that Maleficent was still holed up in her Dark Fortress." Turning his attention to Arthur, he added, "Is there anything we can do to help?"

Looking up from the parchment, Arthur said, "Actually, there is. Could Emma go to Camelot and investigate to see what magic was used to open it? I'd send Merlin, but the last message I received from him said he'd be in Atlantica for at least another week as treaty negotiations were becoming hostile again."

"Of course. She and Killian will have to travel there the old fashioned way instead of translocating since Merlin recast the barrier spell six months ago with only his magic behind it, but they should be able to leave before noon today."

"Thank you, my friend," the King of Camelot said while standing, his voice full of gratitude. "I'll use one of Snow's birds to send word back to Percival so he'll be prepared for their arrival."

Dread instantly clawed at Killian's stomach as Arthur quickly left the dining hall with the courier that had delivered the message a few paces behind him. While he normally wouldn't have thought twice about he and Emma being sent on such a mission, the continued onslaught of her nightmares had him questioning the validity of that idea. Emma was still only getting a few hours of sleep on the nights she was plagued by them, and in the last week there had been no less than four nights when he heard her waking up and gasping for breath after having one. He'd seen the deepening of the already present dark circles under his wife's eyes that she'd tried to hide with makeup and magic, as well as watching her almost nod off before dinner had even been served. Emma was clearly exhausted and in no physical shape to take on the three day trip to Camelot.

The only problem was no one but he knew about Emma's predicament, and just like he didn't gossip about his children's problems, he most certainly didn't do so where his wife was concerned. There was a reason she hadn't talked to anyone, including him, about the nightmares. Killian would honor her decision on the matter—even though he in no way agreed with whatever that reason may be—but there was no way he could, in good conscious, let her undertake Arthur's request.

"Dave, Emma can't go."

His father-in-law and Will looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Why can't she?"

"She—" Killian broke off as his eyes landed on one of the staff members standing against the wall of the dining hall. The people who helped run the Charming castle had always been discret when it came to things they heard the royal family talk about, yet this was one subject matter that Killian didn't feel comfortable having them overhear since it concerned Emma's privacy. David seemed to read his hesitation perfectly and, with a quick wave of his hand. dismissed the handful of castle staff from the dining hall before turning back to his son-in-law.

"Go ahead, Killian."

"She hasn't been sleeping well recently. She's been worrying about what Maleficent's next move will be since we're drawing closer to the kids' birthday, but it's to the point she's only getting a few hours of sleep each night. I don't think she can physically handle the journey right now, let alone expend the energy she'll need to decipher whose magic was involved in creating the portal."

David frowned. "You nor Emma have mentioned this before now."

"You know how she is when it comes to things like this, mate. She doesn't like to worry the rest of the family, and I'm not one to broadcast what my wife wants to be kept secret."

"But you are now."

"Only because I'm concerned this journey may further damage her health, and I know I can trust the two of you not to even mention my having discussed this with you to Emma."

At least he wasn't having to lie about _that_.

"She did look ready to drop the other day during a meeting about the wedding," Will supplied, which filled Killian with a momentary flash of hope. If other members of their family were beginning to see the toll Emma's nightmares were taking on her, even without knowing about them, it wouldn't be much longer until she was forced to talk to someone. "Though I must admit I assumed it was because of Snow going on and on about different napkin colors for an hour."

David sighed. "I obviously don't want to risk my daughter's health in any way, but with the amount of times Arthur has helped us, I also don't want to leave him with an unknown threat. Who else that has magic could we send? Regina will be in Nottingham for a few more days because of the coronation festivities, and Rumple has been holed up in Stormhold since the ball researching what we'll need to do once we find an Avalonian artifact. Even if Emma has the energy to translocate a messenger—which by the sounds of it she would be too exhausted to do anyway—her magic wasn't a part of the creation of Nottingham or Stormhold's barrier spells. The best we could do is translocate a messenger to the outskirts of each barrier, but the kingdoms are vast and it would take them a week to reach where Regina and Rumple are respectively."

"Which isn't the kind of time you want to waste when it comes to a strange portal that doesn't seem in any hurry to close," Will added before taking a large gulp from his goblet.

"Elsa is also out because her knowledge of magic doesn't extend to portals or being able to detect other forms of magic unless they are similar to her own elemental kind."

While the two kings continued to go through the list of magical users they could send—and the various reasons why none of them could do it—Killian's gaze fell to the stark white tablecloth that covered the dining table. He knew who they could send, although it would require him to divulge the reason why the more experienced Emma wasn't going. Not that that was a problem considering he had decided almost a week ago to talk to his children about their mother's nightmares. He'd wanted to do it the day after the ball, but between War Councils, wedding planning, and Erin's self imposed avoidance routine of Eric, it was a conversation that had fallen by the wayside.

"She's new at detecting another person's magic, but Erin could do it."

David contemplated the suggestion for a long moment before nodding. "I hate to ask it of her when she's only just returned from a retrieval, but she's really the only person that is _here_ other than Emma that has the capabilities. Since we don't know if friend or foe is responsible for the barrier around the portal, I'd feel more comfortable if someone—or multiple people, really—went with her. Not to say that my granddaughter can't protect herself if need be."

"Numbers are always an asset when dealing with unknown magic, and Erin would agree," Killian replied. "I've made plans to take Emma on a short sailing trip in the hopes of her finally getting some rest, so I'll ask Liam and Henry to make the journey with her to Camelot."

Will snorted, the action causing his entire upper body to jolt. "Liam will probably jump at the chance to do something other than attend Snow's wedding briefings."

"If only the rest of us could get out of them," David mumbled good naturedly before turning his attention back to Killian. "I'll inform Arthur of the change in plans and you'll talk with the kids?"

Nodding in agreement, Killian stood and made his way out of the almost deserted dining hall.

* * *

"Strike!"

Eric grunted as the flat side of a sword struck his right forearm with enough force to send not only reverberations up the arm and into his jaw, but cause him to instantly relinquish the hold he had on his own weapon. As the dulled sword he had been using clattered to the cobblestones, he brought his free hand up to rub the point of impact and glared at his sparring partner.

"Did you have to hit that hard?"

Propping his dulled sword on his bare shoulder, Henry shrugged nonchalantly. "The objective of sparring _is_ to mimic actual battle, D'Harper."

"That doesn't mean you have to pepper me with bruises."

"Well, if you don't like how hard I hit then don't let me get through your defenses so often."

Eric scowled at the casual reminder that this wasn't the first time Henry had landed a blow that morning. Not that he needed reminding of that fact. The red spots on various parts of his own bare upper body—and more than likely a few beneath the leather pants he wore—that would more than likely turn to ugly bruises by this time tomorrow bore witness to just how often the Author and Knight of the Round Table had gotten through his defenses. Eric normally never let an opponent get this many hits on him, and the fact that he was allowing it to happen all because he couldn't focus rankled him more than he was willing to admit. He could call an end to the sparring session and protect his already wounded pride—and body—but he needed the distraction. Even if he was losing terribly and would be covered in bruises for the next week because of it.

He'd barely slept the night before, tossing and turning as his mind refused to shut off in regard to the situation he'd found himself in with Erin. The rising sun hadn't even begun to clear the horizon by the time Eric was knocking on Henry's bedchamber door with blunted swords in hand, a fact Erin's brother had only grumbled about a little bit before dressing and following Eric to an empty courtyard. He didn't have to question Henry's lack of berating for having been woken so early because he knew that Erin's family had sensed the tension between the two of them for days, and Henry was more than aware of what had brought Eric to his door for a pre-dawn sparring session.

Now it was only a couple of hours after sunrise, both of them shirtless to combat the sweat rolling down their torsos, and Eric was no closer to finding mental peace than he had been when he stepped into the courtyard with Henry.

"I can continue to beat up on you if you want," Henry suggested with a slight smirk when Eric didn't reply, "Or we can be civilized human beings and talk about what has been bothering you."

The reason behind him needing to spar might have been known to Henry, but that didn't mean it was something he wanted to discuss. His scowl deepening, Eric shook the last vestiges of tingles out of his arm and bent down to pick up his sword. "There's nothing bothering me," he muttered.

"We both know that's a lie, but have it your way, D'Harper."

Ignoring the slightly smug and all-to-knowing look on Henry's face, Eric's grip tightened on the pommel of his sword and he wasted no time in launching another attack. For a few moments his mind went blissfully blank as they parried each other's thrusts, a decade worth of fighting experience taking over and his body instinctively moving to counter each of Henry's strikes. It wasn't long, however, before the thoughts that had been distracting him all morning roared back to the surface.

Five days. It had been five whole days of him and Erin leaving a room as soon as the other walked in, or barely saying two words to one another when they couldn't make a hasty retreat. Erin had even started resorting to dramatic measures to avoid being in his presence. He'd been making his way down the family wing of the castle yesterday morning when she rounded the corner and, upon making eye contact with him, had paused mid-stride before practically barrelling into the nearest bedchamber. Rumple and Belle's, no less. It was by far the longest they had ever went without talking while being in the same place, and while Eric loathed the undeniable tension it was creating between them, he was too hurt to try and fix it.

A part of him knew he should have expected it given her history of pulling away when things became a little too serious between them, but the night of Liam and Elizabeth's ball, the idea of her doing that yet again had been the furthest thing from Eric's mind. After their dance, he'd walked Erin to her bedchamber and had gone to sleep convinced he had had finally broken through her walls. He had clearly been wrong, however. From the moment Erin stepped into the dining hall the next morning, he had known something was wrong. The woman who had allowed herself to be carefree and laughed without restraint while in his arms was gone, replaced instead with an emotionally distant and guarded version. She hadn't even looked at him _once_ during that breakfast. Instead of building on the revealing conversation like he had hoped and taking a step towards becoming the _thing_ they had danced around for years, they were now even further apart emotionally than they had ever been.

While it certainly wasn't the first time he'd encountered a guarded Erin, the fact that she pulled away from him after what transpired between them had cut him deeper than any sword ever would. Normally he could take running head first into her emotional walls in stride—Hera knew he had more than enough experience in doing so—but this time, Erin wasn't the only one who had allowed herself to be vulnerable. He'd opened an old wound that was as jagged as the one she had over Matthew's death in order to help her, and as a result, his own emotional walls had shot up when Erin shoved him away in the dawn of a new day.

 _Perhaps her doing so is a consequence for you deceiving her,_ a voice inside his head whispered, and Eric's jaw clenched as he narrowly managed to block Henry from landing yet another blow to his shoulder.

That was something that had begun slipping into his internal thoughts by the second day of him and Erin avoiding each other. Intellectually he knew it was just the guilt gnawing at him, but as a man who observed superstitions while on the ocean and who believed the governing forces around him were sentient, Eric couldn't help but wonder if there was some merit to the thought. After all, he _had_ deceived her. He may not have lied about how his parents were murdered, or that he only escaped the same fate because of his mother's determination, but he had most certainly left out some rather crucial facts about that night.

He had to though. Although he desperately wanted to tell her everything, there were facets about his parents' murder—about _himself_ —that had to remain hidden. _"Your safety, and the safety of anyone connected with you, depends on no one ever finding out the truth."_ It had been a mere two days after his parents' deaths when Merlin first whispered that warning as they watched the funeral from afar, the wizard's hand falling to his shoulder in a silent show of support for the burden that was being placed on a then eight-year-old Eric. He'd heeded that warning for twenty-four years now, and he couldn't begin to ignore it simply because he wanted to share the truth with the woman he loved.

That still didn't stop the guilt, however. At the end of the day, no matter how he justified it, he'd deceived her. Not that he hadn't been doing that since the moment he met her...

Eric winced as the tip of a blunted sword suddenly dug into his lower abdomen in the same heartbeat that Henry's self confident call of "Strike!" came. With his wandering thoughts effectively coming to a screeching halt, anger bubbled within Eric's chest and he snarled in irritation before flinging his own sword across the courtyard.

"Fuck!"

He'd allowed himself to become distracted yet again, and just as he would have if the roles were reversed, Henry had taken full advantage of it. _That is definitely going to bruise,_ he thought while glancing down at the point of impact. It wasn't nearly as red as some of the other places on his body, but Henry had managed to get a fair amount of power behind the hit that belied the physical mark left behind.

"You ready to talk?"

Looking up from his bare torso, Eric once again found himself glaring at Erin's brother. "I told you there's nothing—"

"Bothering you. Yeah, I know," Henry cut in before sighing in exasperation. "Look, you can repeat that phrase until the sun sets in the west but we both know you're lying every time you say it. I have eyes, Eric. I've _seen_ the way you and Erin have been acting around each other for days now, and it doesn't take an innately perceptive individual to know that that is linked with your sudden inability to block a strike."

"Perhaps I'm just having an off day," he countered, a statement which immediately caused Henry to give him a skeptical glare.

"You were a pirate captain for eight years. A feared one at that if your reputation is anything to go by. I'm a Knight of the Roundtable, and Killian might have trained me to use a sword, but even on one of your 'off days,' I shouldn't have been able to get through your defenses as many times as I have. You're distracted because of whatever is going on between you and my sister, and the fact that you deflected my observation speaks volumes more than if you had actually agreed with it."

Bristling at the fact that he was right—on both points, even—Eric scoffed. "Why do you even care about it?"

"Because you're my friend," Henry instantly responded. "Something is bothering you and I want to fix it, or at least understand _._ I know why Erin would avoid you, but the only reason you'd be avoiding her is because you were genuinely hurt by something. All I'm asking is that you just _talk_ to me, Eric."

 _Because you're my friend._ The evolution of his friendships with Henry and Liam over the last six months, the bonds that were solely theirs and outside any of their connections with Erin, still took him by surprise sometimes. After all, following his parents' murder, his life hadn't exactly been one that allowed for friends. Merlin constantly moved them for Eric's safety, the pair never staying in one place long enough for a young Eric to get to know anyone beyond their name, and then he'd entered the world of piracy. Men died, either by the sword or through illness, before genuine connections could be made, and when he became a captain, he had never once entertained the idea of forming friendships with his crew. Friendships meant vulnerability, and that was something he couldn't afford in that position.

Things were different now, though. He _had_ friends, and one of them was currently standing in front of him with genuine concern in his eyes. The problem was that while it was tempting to give in and talk to Henry—to have his feelings of being hurt after he'd offered Erin a deeply buried part of himself possibly validated—he couldn't do it. At least not with Henry.

"Thank you for offering to help, Henry. Truly. It… I haven't had many friends in my life, and it's comforting to know that I have your ear if I ever need it. That being said, I _can't_ discuss this with you," he said before moving to one of the stone benches circling the grassy courtyard. Picking up the waterskin that lay next to the shirts they had discarded at the start of their session, Eric took a long pull from the container and hoped his own sincerity, combined with his firm words, would put an end to the discussion.

Eric had clearly forgotten, however, that Erin wasn't the only stubborn Jones sibling.

"Well, why not?"

Lowering the waterskin, Eric half turned to find Henry had followed him and was now standing next to him.

"You don't give up, do you?"

"When someone—particularly a friend—isn't making sense, no, I don't."

Eric sighed while passing the waterskin to Henry. "I can't discuss what happened with you because Erin is your sister."

"So? Can't I be her brother _and_ your friend?"

"Generally speaking yes, you can, but when it comes to something like this, no. I would feel like I'm putting you in a position to choose sides and that's something I'm not willing—"

"Sir Henry?"

The unexpected interruption startled both men who, upon simultaneously turning towards the voice, found a member of the castle staff not far from them.

"Bloody hell!" Eric muttered under his breath at the same time Henry asked, "Yes, Spencer?"

"Sorry for interrupting, but Captain Jones needs to speak with you. He says it's urgent and of an official nature."

"Where is he?"

"Captain Jones was in the library when I saw him, but he said to meet him out on his ship as soon as you could."

Henry nodded. "Thank you, Spencer. I'll head that way now."

With a bow of his head the staff member turned and left, once again leaving the two men alone.

"Well, that doesn't sound good," Eric said, a frown pulling at his lips as Henry reached for his shirt.

"No, it doesn't," he agreed with a slightly annoyed sigh. "Probably has to do with the naval patrols in the Sea of Eternal Darkness. We've combined our resources with Camelot's to keep a watchful eye on Maleficent from the water, and the new Admiral of Camelot's Royal Navy is making the entire process more painful than it needs to be. So much so that I thought Killian was going to reach across the table at the last meeting and throttle him."

Tossing his own shirt over his shoulder, Eric chuckled while moving towards the sword he'd thrown in frustration. "Best hurry and get to the _Jolly Roger_ then. Arthur is a close friend of the family, but I doubt even he would condone the son-in-law of Misthaven's King impaling his Admiral with a hook."

He'd only taken a few steps, however, when the sound of his name had the young pirate captain turning around. Henry was still stood by the stone bench, the shirt he'd pulled on askew and hazel eyes studying Eric in a way that reminded him of when Emma looked at someone while she was determining if they were telling the truth or not.

"I get it," Henry said at length. "You don't want to put me in the middle of whatever is going on between you and Erin because you think if I were to take your side over hers it would mean I was being disloyal to her, but Eric… I don't have to blindly agree with everything she does just because we share blood. My sister has a lot of amazing qualities, many of which I hope my sons emulate one day, but she also has flaws. I can find an action of hers to be in the wrong without it lessening my loyalty to her. So when you're ready to talk about what happened and not just have me beat on you, I'll be here."

Taken aback since he had thought that particular conversation had been dropped with the arrival of Killian's summons, all Eric could do was stare in surprise at Henry's back as the Author left the courtyard.

* * *

Erin sighed in resignation as she made her way down the docks in the direction of her father's ship.

She'd been toiling away at some much needed repair work on the _Jewel of the Realm_ when Spencer had appeared on the gangplank, the staff member's sudden and unexpected arrival nearly giving her a heart attack. After muttering more than a few curses in Elvish and calming her racing heart, she'd listened to the message he'd been tasked with delivering to her and then watched as he left as quickly as he came. Erin's own steps down the gangplank of her ship had been less hurried while she threw her hair into a ponytail and mulled over her father's message.

 _Captain Jones wants to discuss something with you. He says it's highly important and that you need to meet him on his ship within the next ten minutes._

It had only taken until her boots hit the wooden planks of the dock for her to realize just what her father would want to discuss with her that was 'highly important', and Erin wasn't one bit surprised that he was summoning her over it. She had, after all, told her mother it was fine to fill him in on what they'd discussed Tuesday night. Her parents didn't keep secrets from one another, and she wasn't going to ask her mother to pretend like they hadn't had this big, emotional conversation.

The downside to that, of course, was it put her avoidance of Eric under an even bigger magnifying glass when it came to her father. She knew he had sensed the tension between her and Eric from the moment she volunteered to take on the council meetings in Neal's absence. He was a perceptive man, and there weren't many things that got past Killian Jones where his children were concerned—particularly when one of them was doing a fairly piss-poor job at hiding something. With the reveal of what Erin and her mother had talked about, he probably thought she'd finally stop avoiding Eric but that clearly hadn't happened, and she'd seen the look on his face when she'd asked him to take Hope to breakfast a few hours ago. It was assessing, that knowing quirk of his eyebrow saying more than if he had actually made a comment about the request. Her father knew what, or more accurately _who_ she was avoiding by not going to the dining hall, and he'd apparently decided it was they had a chat about it.

Explaining to her father _why_ she was still avoiding Eric was not something she looked forward to rehashing, but there was no getting around it. He would expect complete honesty from her and, despite still being emotionally drained from the late night conversation with her mother three nights ago, she would give him that.

Reaching the _Jolly Roger_ , Erin quickly made her way up the gangplank and was halfway across the enchanted deck before she noticed the two figures standing on the bridge of the ship.

"What are you two doing here?"

Liam and Henry, who had been standing with their backs facing her, turned upon hearing her voice and stared at her in surprise. "You too?" they asked in perfect unison.

Taken aback by the question, Erin frowned in confusion while climbing the short staircase to join them.

"What do you mean 'you too?'"

"Spencer found me in one of the courtyards and told me that Killian needed to speak with me on the _Jolly Roger_ as soon as possible," Henry replied. "Only, when I, arrived Liam was already here."

"I was stopped while heading to a wedding meeting by Spencer and told the same thing, so I'd be willing to wager my monthly income as an officer that you're here for the same reason."

Erin slowly nodded. "He stopped by the _Jewel_ a few moments ago with a message and I came straight here." Glancing between her brothers, she added, "So, what's going on? Why are we all here?"

"That is the question of the moment. _I_ was told the reason for me being summoned was of an official nature, but Liam was told it had to do with—" Cutting himself off, Henry looked to his brother. "What was the exact wording?"

" _A matter that was long overdue in needing to be discussed._ "

"Right. I assumed Killian wanted to talk to me about the incompetent Admiral from Camelot, and Liam thought he was being brought here because he refused a captain position. _Yet again_."

The youngest Jones sibling rolled his eyes. "You just _had_ to add that last bit, didn't you?"

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?"

Scoffing, Liam turned his attention back to her. "What was the reason you were given, Em?"

Momentarily letting the fact that her twin had once again not taken a well deserved promotion slide without comment—they'd certainly be having _that_ conversation again later—Erin replied, "Just that we needed to discuss something and that it was important."

"Well that could be any number of things."

"Or one thing in particular that concerns a certain captain," Henry said with a pointed look towards his sister. Erin's eyebrow rose in response to the less than subtle comment at the same time Liam's knowing, "Ohhhhh," filled the space between the three of them.

 _She should have been more covert in her avoidance of Eric._

"The major flaw with that is Dad wouldn't have sent for the two of you if he wanted to talk to me about it," she pointed out. "And the same goes for the reasons each of you were given."

That was the crux of the situation they currently found themselves in. It had never been their father's style to hold frank conversations with an individual—particularly when it concerned one of them—while in the company of others, and discussing Erin's avoidance of Eric was one such example. He wouldn't do it while Henry and Liam were around, just as he wouldn't vent to Henry about Camelot's Admiral if her and Liam were in the same room. Nor would he, in fact, reprimand Liam for being an idiot and not taking the promotion with her and Henry in hearing distance.

Sighing, Henry voiced the question that was at the forefront of all their minds. "So why were we summoned here then?"

"Not just that," Liam added, "But why would Dad give a staff member reasons—none of which are connected in any way—for us to meet him here that he would never discuss in front of _all_ of us?"

As Erin went to shrug, a familiar voice tinged with laughter sounded from the open hatch next to them.

"Because they _are_ connected, and you might find out how if the three of you stopped gossiping like a bunch of scullery maids and came down here."

Erin shared a look of surprise with her brothers before raising her right hand to chest level and quickly moving her slender fingers to articulate the second language all three of them had learned. _How in the seven hells did we not know Dad was already on board?_ Henry and Liam could only shake their heads at the silent question and follow her as she moved towards the hatch.

She was halfway down the ladder that lead into her parents' cabin when she spotted her father. He was sat at his desk, the ship's ledger—the legal one, she noted—open in front of him, although his attention wasn't on the parchment pages. No, those blue eyes she could pick out of any crowd were watching her descent, and she didn't miss the way they twinkled with unrestrained mirth.

"When did you get here?" she asked while stepping off the ladder and onto the floor, mindful to leave enough room so her brothers could do the same.

"I've _been_ here, lass. I was coming up from making preparations in the galley when I heard you ask your brothers what was going on."

"And you… what? Just decided to sit here and listen to us 'gossip like scullery maids?'"

Killian quirked an amused eyebrow at her rather spot on—if she did say so herself—impression of his accent as Henry came to a stop beside her. "An old pirate has to get his entertainment somewhere," he replied seriously before chuckling at her raised eyebrows. "Besides, I was _hoping_ you'd take the opportunity to lecture Liam, but that obviously didn't happen."

A scoff came from behind her in the vicinity of the ladder. "Alright, enough about my life choices." The sound of Liam's boots hitting the wooden flooring filled the otherwise quiet cabin, and in a less than three strides he was next to Erin. His arms were crossed and eyes narrowed in a way that made him look even more, if at all possible, like the man in front of them.

"So in what universe are the reasons you brought us here connected?"

"Considering the reason I had the three of you brought here has nothing to do with any of the ones you imagined, I'd say this universe." Closing the ledger he'd obviously been writing in at some point and moving it off to the side of his desk, Killian gestured to the three chairs in front of him. "Have a seat and I'll explain."

More confused than ever—but also intrigued—Erin moved to take the middle chair while Henry and Liam sat on either side of her.

"As I said, the reason you are here has nothing to do with a half-witted Admiral Fitzgibbons—and I use that term _lightly_ —or the exasperating choices you two have made," he began, blue eyes swinging meaningfully between Erin and Liam at the end of his sentence. "The messages I had Spencer deliver to you weren't a lie, however, and each one does pertain to what I have to tell you in some form. While we were at breakfast this morning, Arthur received word of a portal that had opened within Camelot's borders in the early hours of Tuesday morning. According to Percival nothing sinister or otherwise had come through from what he could gather, but at the time he wrote to Arthur the portal had been open for three days. Which, considering the amount of portals this family has dealt with over the last thirty years, I'm sure you realize is an oddity."

"That's more than an oddity," Erin murmured before looking to her older brother. "Have you _ever_ heard of that happening in your travels?"

Henry shook his head. "Never. Portals are, by their very nature, temporary openings because the objects used to create them aren't infinite. Beans become dehydrated and potions, like the one we used to create time portals, absorb into whatever surface they're thrown at. Even Jefferson's hat only allows for a momentary opening to wherever he's going before it closes."

"So this is definitely an anomaly when it comes to portals," Liam summarized while crossing his arms.

It was Erin's turn to shake her head. "It's not an anomaly. It is _impossible_ for a portal to remain open as long as this one has. It—it breaks all known laws of magic, and I don't know of a single object that could be used to sustain a portal for more than a few minutes. I don't even think _Merlin_ would be able to list one and he's the most experienced magic user in existence."

"There's more," Killian added. "Percival also mentioned there was an invisible barrier around the portal that stopped anyone from getting close."

"Well that's strange. Although promising," Liam noted, which prompted Henry to frown and lean forward so he could see his brother around Erin.

"How is that promising?"

"Because it speaks to their intent. If they were an enemy then there would be no barrier to stop someone from falling into it."

"But if their intentions were good then why even _open_ the portal?" Henry countered, to which the youngest Jones sibling could only shrug in response.

Erin, who was still trying to wrap her mind around how a law of magic was being broken and seemingly rewritten, rubbed at her temple.

"We're missing the obvious culprit here. This sounds _exactly_ like something Maleficent would do to facilitate her next move against us."

"That was a suggestion your Uncle Will made this morning, and we can rule her out," her father replied. "Blue reported this morning that the Dark Fairy still hasn't left her castle so, for once, this has nothing to do with her."

Erin sighed. "That's a relief, I suppose. So Arthur's concerns must be did a friend—for _whatever_ reason—or foe create the portal, _why_ would either do it, and how in the seven hells have they managed to keep it open."

"They are," Killian acknowledged with a nod of his head, "Which is why I'm asking the three of you to travel to Camelot and investigate the portal."

Her eyebrows rose significantly at that. " _Us?_ "

"Unfortunately Merlin, Regina, nor the Crocodile can do it as they are still dealing with their respective tasks in other kingdoms. Sending a messenger to one of them was discussed, but because of the barrier spells surrounding Atlantica, Stormhold, and Nottingham, it was decided that would take too long to reach them. This is obviously a matter that Arthur doesn't want to leave unattended for longer than it needs to be. You're the only magic user here that can make the journey and, considering the strangeness of the situation and all the unknowns, I want Henry and Liam to accompany you in case something goes wrong."

There was something odd about her father's choice of words, her perceptive sense kicking in almost immediately, but before she could probe the sensation or even respond Liam spoke.

"It makes sense that Arthur doesn't want to wait to have the portal investigated. _We_ certainly wouldn't want to if the situations were reversed, and I feel confident enough to speak for my siblings when I say we're willing to help Arthur in any way we can. Hera knows he's come to our aide without question multiple times over the last twenty-five years. I am, however, confused. Mom isn't currently in some far flung kingdom—unless something has happened in the last hour that I'm unaware of—and this sort of thing is really more her and your territory than it is ours. This wouldn't have anything to do with Camelot's custom when a Knight is within its borders, would it?"

Erin hummed in approval of that question. To show his thanks for the Charmings helping him reclaim Camelot from Morgana, Arthur had knighted her father, grandfather, and Uncle Will. It was the highest honor anyone could receive from the King of Camelot and yet, even at six years old, she could distinctly remember her grandfather and Uncle Will having to physically _drag_ her father into the throne room for the ceremony. Her father largely hadn't thought he deserved the pomp and circumstance that surrounded the event, but it was also because Camelot's law dictated that anytime a Knight was within its borders they had to be referred to as 'Sir' as a sign of a respect. And if there was one title Killian Jones hated just as much as Prince, it was Sir.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time her father tried to weasel his way out of having to touch Camelot soil just so he didn't have to deal with that particular custom.

"It is true that this is normally something your mother and I would handle, but… she can't make the journey."

Henry frowned. "Why not? Is she sick?"

The impercitable way her father's shoulders tensed didn't go unnoticed by Erin, nor did the ticking of his jaw, and the sensation that _something_ was going on caused the hair on the back of Erin's neck to rise. What was keeping their mom from going to Camelot for a simple detection spell, and why did their father currently look like he was warring with himself on even speaking about it? _Was Henry right?_ Maybe she was sick, but a simple illness wouldn't have elicited _that_ reaction from their father—not unless it was serious. A quick glance to her brothers told her they had caught the shift in their father's demeanor as well, and trepidation settled low in Erin's stomach as silence continued to fill the cabin like a physical entity.

"Dad?"

With a heavy sigh, Killian ran a hand through his silver streaked hair.

"She's not sick, at least not in the traditional sense. Your mother has been battling with nightmares since her past self freed her from the physical manifestation of her and Ingrid's powers combining."

"I thought nightmares were a normal byproduct of going under a sleeping curse?" Liam asked, his eyes briefly moving between his father and brother for confirmation. Both men nodded.

"It is," Henry replied, "Though I'm not sure why Mom having nightmares would stop her from going to Camelot."

"Because of the effect they are having on her." Erin watched her father's jaw tick once again in a sign of barely restrained emotion as his hand dropped back to the desk. "They were sporadic at first, weeks passing between each one, but it wasn't long until their frequency increased. She's having them multiple times a week now, and it's beginning to impact her health. Your mother wanders the castle for hours and hours after she's awoken by one, only coming back to bed near dawn and getting a few scant hours of rest before starting her day. Emma hides it well, but the signs are there and other members of the family are starting to notice. She's consumed more coffee in the last month than I've seen her have in an entire year yet she's still nodding off during meetings, and in order to conserve what energy she does have she's been using her magic less. She's putting off going to bed later and later in an effort to avoid them, and wearing makeup to hide the circles under her eyes. I can't even recall the last time she went without it. I _wish_ me requesting that you do this was simply about me being uncomfortable with Camelot's customs, but it's not. Your mother is so exhausted that I fear the physical trip to get there, coupled with the energy she'd need to exert while using her magic, would completely drain her and have even more consequences on her health."

Erin, along with her brothers, could only stare at their father in stunned silence once he'd finished speaking.

It wasn't like she was a stranger to the physical toll nightmares could have on a person. She herself had experienced that same exhaustion and drive to put off going to sleep as long as possible when her own had begun shortly after Matthew's death. What shocked her, however, was that she hadn't noticed _any_ of it when it came to her mother. The signs were there, that she could clearly see now as she looked back over the last few months with the gift of hindsight, but she hadn't picked up on any of it at the time. That emotionally charged night in the study with her mom suddenly flashed through her mind, and Erin inhaled sharply.

"Mom had one Tuesday night, didn't she?"

Her father, who had been twisting the silver band that rested on his ring finger since revealing her mother's nightmares, immediately ceased the movement of his thumb against the metal and fixed her with a curious gaze.

"She did. How did you know?"

"I—Well, I couldn't sleep that night myself. I had too many things on my mind." She could practically feel the knowing looks Henry and Liam gave her at that but she ignored them, her own eyes resolutely focused on her father. "I went wandering and found her in a barely used study on the East Wing in the middle of the night, drinking your best rum. She _said_ she couldn't sleep because her mind wouldn't shut off so we… _talked_."

Understanding, along with another emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on, filled her father's face as she stressed the last word. He knew she was referring to the conversation her mother had told him about, and she had never been more thankful for his perceptive nature than in that moment. Detailing what was discussed in front of her brothers was the very _last_ thing she wanted to do.

"Ah. Yes, she did mention running into you," Killian said with one of the most forced smiles Erin had ever seen him give. "That was the first of four she's had this week alone."

Henry sighed. "I just… I don't understand. If things had gotten this bad, why hasn't Mom said anything to us?"

"She probably didn't want to worry the three of you, especially with us being on alert for Maleficent's next move and preparing for the wedding."

"She still should have told us," Erin murmured. "She'd be furious if one of us tried to keep something like that from her."

"Aye, indeed."

To anyone else it was a simple agreement, but Erin knew her father well enough to pick up on the bitter undertone that accompanied his words. She also didn't miss the hurt that briefly flashed through his eyes, or the way the edge of his hook seemed to press into the wooden table. There was clearly something about the situation with her mother and the nightmares that angered him, and she made a mental note to broach the subject upon her return from Camelot.

"In any event," Killian began with a clearing of his throat, "I'm going to ask that the three of you keep this quiet. People may be noticing the symptoms but they aren't privy to the cause, and you know how your mother is about things like this."

All three of them nodded.

"You know," Liam began with a tilt of his head after a few seconds, "What I still don't understand is why all the secrecy in giving Spencer a different message to deliver to each of us? Wouldn't it have been less confusing if you just said you needed to talk about something?"

"I wasn't _that_ secretive, lad."

"You were a bit over dramatic, Dad."

"No, I simply sent specifically themed messages that ensured you would come and not lollygag around because this is a rather urgent matter. _You're_ the ones that made a mountain out of a molehill."

Liam scoffed. "When have we _ever_ not answered a summons from you in a timely manner?"

Both of Killian's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "I can think of a few times, the main one being the time the three of you got drunk off my 300 year old rum and destroyed the _Jolly Roger_ 's galley. It took you four hours to come out here and answer as to what had happened."

"In our defense, we were severely hungover that time," Erin said, chuckling as she stood. "We should start preparing for the journey though. It's going to take us at least three days to reach the outskirts of Camelot, and Hera knows how many more to wherever the portal—"

"I think Eric should come with us."

Erin's head snapped towards Henry so fast that her ponytail swung around and smacked the side of her face. " _You what?!"_

"I think he should join us," he repeated, a faux look of innocence on his face.

"Why in the seven hells do you think _that_?"

He shrugged. "The more the merrier? Besides, we don't know if a friend or foe is responsible for this portal, and having another sword on our side certainly wouldn't hurt matters."

It was sound logic, and even something she'd suggest under normal circumstances. The tense situation that had developed between her and Eric since the ball, however, was anything _but_ normal, and her older brother damn well knew that.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Well I think it's a _great_ idea. I always need entertainment while traveling and Eric coming along is the perfect definition of that, what with you two currently dancing around each other."

If looks could turn someone to ash Liam would have instantly evaporated with the one she shot him, and her glare only sharpened when he smirked in reply to it. "Dad, help me out here," she pleaded while turning her attention towards her father. Out of anyone in their family, he'd be the reasonable voice amongst the meddling ones of her brothers in this situation. "Tell them we'll be fine with just the three of us."

"I'm sorry, ychydig iawn o mor-leidr, but I'm going to agree with your brothers on this one."

"Oh you have _got_ to be joking."

A dark eyebrow rose in response to her exasperated tone. "Not in the slightest."

"Dad—"

"Erin, you were taught defense strategy by myself, your grandfather, _and_ your Uncle Will. The first rule when walking into a potentially dangerous environment is you can never have too many allies standing beside you. That is the very foundation for why I'm sending your brothers with you to Camelot, and why I'd send twenty more people if I could. You know Henry is right to suggest that D'Harper go with you, and the _only_ reason you're arguing against it is because of your current pursuit to avoid him like he's contracted the plague."

She scoffed. "He's avoiding me as well."

"We both know he wasn't the one who started it," her father dead panned. "Having another swordsman on this endeavor—particularly one as skilled as D'Harper—can only give you more of an advantage if something should go wrong, and I'll sleep a little more soundly knowing he's watching my children's backs."

Erin stared at her father, her peridot eyes pleading with his unwavering cerulean gaze, and after a long moment she sighed in defeat. She was a stubborn woman who was known for her inability to back down once she had set her mind to something, but even she knew when an argument had been lost. Because as much as she hated to admit it, her father—and Henry—were right. They didn't know what situation they were walking into when it came to this portal and, despite every part of her that was still afraid of getting too close to him, she also knew she'd feel safer with the knowledge that Eric had her back.

They may not be speaking to each other but he would still protect her without a moment's hesitation—that she had no doubt of.

"Fine," she murmured, ceding her stance in the discussion vocally.

"It's settled then," Henry said while standing and looking a little too smug for Erin's liking. "I'll find Eric and fill him in on what's going on."

Killian nodded. "Your horses and supplies are being prepared as we speak, and I'll see to it that another horse is readied for D'Harper."

With that the three of them wordlessly moved towards the ladder. Just as Erin placed her boot on the bottom rung to follow her brothers up to the deck, however, her father called out her name. Looking over her shoulder, she found him watching her from his still seated position with a mixture of empathy and sternness.

"Obviously I know why you didn't want Eric to come with you," he began softly, "And while I'm sympathetic to the emotional ledge you stand on after what you've endured in the past, I _am_ in agreement with everything your mother said. It's time to take a leap of faith, ychydig iawn o mor-leidr, and my advice would be to use this journey to begin mending that bridge so you can."

Erin swallowed thickly under the clear meaning behind his words but nodded her head. "I'll try. Take care of Mom while we're gone, yeah?"

"Always."

With another nod, Erin began her ascent of the ladder, but she couldn't shake the feeling as she did that she wasn't the only Jones currently standing on an emotional ledge.

* * *

 _A/N: Alright, so. Google translate has apparently decided to change the term of 'my little pirate' in Welsh over the last four years because on a hunch I rechecked for this chapter and its... not what Killian says. haha But whatevs. We're sticking with what is canon in this universe so, if there's anyone reading this that DOES speak Welsh, don't me, okay? It was right at some point!_


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